Walking Shadow
by Emara88
Summary: During their hunt for Voldemort's horcruxes, the golden trio is summoned by the Order of the Phoenix to their headquarters because they have captured the infamous Draco Malfoy. Although half mad and tormented by his experiences, Draco has something in his possession that once belonged to Hermione Granger. Only she can get through to him now.
1. Chapter One

**Walking Shadow**

 **Hello readers. I'm back. If you've read my other stories (** ** _Unexpected, Forget Me_** **and** ** _Incarceration)_** **then you know I'm a fan of some angst and slow burn. And Draco being intense. I hope you enjoy this new offering. Should be a little bit shorter than my other stories, with weekly updates. The title is from Macbeth! The characters are from the brilliant mind of JKR. Happy 20** **th** **Anniversary Potter fans.**

 _Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player_

 _That struts and frets his hour upon the stage_

 _And then is heard no more. It is a tale_

 _Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,_

 _Signifying nothing. (5.5.20-31)_

 _-_ **Macbeth**

 **Chapter One**

When they apparated to the front steps of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, Hermione looked up at the tall, imposing brick building with a sigh of relief. After so many weeks roaming the desolate countryside it was nice to be welcomed back by some kind of surrogate home.

All three of them were exhausted and malnourished. The sparse, hardened oak trees had been stripped bare by winter's chill. The frostbitten grass crunched underfoot with every mile they trekked. Their skin was whipped by bitter winds. And they were losing hope.

With every passing day, it became harder and harder to keep going, not knowing what they were supposed to do next, where the next horcrux would be found. She had been watching Harry carefully for any signs of trauma or fatigue that would indicate that he was giving up. But ever since Ron had returned to them, Harry had actually been much more cheerful. And the absence of the now destroyed locket was helping too.

Grimmauld place looked down on them with indulgence. The Order had restored and strengthened its protective wards, making it once more untraceable and impenetrable to any outsiders. It welcomed back its owner with a fond embrace. Even the mad, raving portrait in the entrance hall had been silenced for Harry Potter's return. Kreacher had stirred from his lethargy to once again begin cleaning the decrepit old building, revived by the possibility of his master's approval.

Hermione took a deep breath and reached out to open the front door, feeling her nerves tingle in anticipation. Next to her, Ron and Harry exchanged matching grins of delight at the prospect of a hearty meal and a warm fire. She of course had been dubious about their return here, fearing either an ambush or the potential to become listless and inactive when surrounded by old creature comforts. But the coded radio announcement from Remus, or _Romulus,_ through their Potterwatch show had made it impossible to refuse. It had brooked no argument among them as to the necessity of returning. And she had acknowledged that the boys needed to see their loved ones to rejuvenate their spirits. It had been a draining, grim winter for them, filled with uncertainty and isolation. Hermione was better at coping most days, having the reassurance of knowing that her parents were safely concealed in complete anonymity in Australia.

But even so, she too experienced moments of darkness when her own demons would come knocking.

As the rustic door swung open, they were met by the kindly eyes and beaming smile of Remus Lupin; so different from the last time they had parted from him in anger. He gestured gently to come in, his stance relaxed.

"Harry, it's so good to see you, my boy. We've all been very anxious these last few weeks with no word from you. And Hermione, Ron; you look well!"

He led them down the familiar rickety corridor towards the kitchen headquarters. It was surprisingly quiet inside the old house. Only a few people actually resided there these days. No one wanted to be haunted by memories of Sirius.

"How are you, Remus? How's Tonks?" Harry inquired, with only a hint of tension in his voice. Their former professor nodded calmly, his eyes crinkling up at the corners.

"Perfect. Absolutely marvellous. She and little Teddy are both in excellent health."

"That's great," Harry replied affectionately, and Hermione was pleased to see her friend put aside his previous resentment towards the older man and start fresh. She knew their argument earlier that year had been particularly troubling to Harry, but he looked genuinely happy to see his father's friend again. Remus glanced behind him as he led them towards the kitchen.

"They're with Andromeda right now. Given what's been happening around here, we thought it best if they stay somewhere safe for a while."

Hermione's heart skipped at the casual comment, wondering what he was referring to. Harry frowned too.

"What has been happening here? Why did you send that message to us?"

"I'll explain soon-" Remus reached the door and pushed it open, leading them inside.

" _Oh!_ Bless my soul- _"_

The familiar sharp eyes of Minerva McGonagall greeted them as she shot to her feet. Hermione had never seen the usually stern woman looking so frazzled, but she clapped her hands together and strode over to meet them.

The three teenagers were immediately swept into a brusque hug each. Ron spluttered and flushed a bright red, while Harry looked incredibly awkward. Hermione just laughed and returned the embrace warmly. There were a few things she had really yearned for since they started wandering aimlessly around Britain looking for Horcruxes, and her former head of house was one of them. The older woman had been a strict but kind teacher, and her own personal mentor. Over the last couple of years at Hogwarts she had really become quite close to the Transfiguration professor.

"How are you, dear?" she quietly asked in that recognisable Scottish brogue. Hermione gave her a reassuring nod and a shaky smile.

"I'm fine. Surviving."

Minerva gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze and led her over to take a seat at the table. The boys followed her. With a curt flick of her wand, she summoned three bowls of steaming stew to the table and a loaf of sliced and buttered bread. Hermione's stomach growled in appreciation. Ron immediately dug in with his usual gusto, and she and Harry followed at a slightly more dignified pace. All three were watching curiously as their two former professors joined them at the table.

"Why did you call for us?" Harry asked after a few hasty mouthfuls of food. She could tell from the croak in his voice that he had swallowed too quickly while it was still hot, but seemed too determined to wait. Remus and Minerva exchanged a significant glance and the older woman gestured for him to begin the story. The three teenagers listened patiently as he sat up straighter in his seat, leaning forward to rest his chin on interlocked fingers.

"Well, something rather unexpected happened last week. A few of us were on a rescue, extraction mission in a muggle neighbourhood in Oxford. We had heard that a muggleborn wizard from the ministry of magic was in hiding there. He had been quite vocal in his department about the new registration laws and then he just disappeared from right under the nose of Umbridge and her cronies. Your little escapade in the ministry certainly caused a stir. A number of muggleborns actually came to us seeking protection after that stunt."

All three of them blushed and exchanged guilty glances. They had certainly caused a fuss that day, and Hermione sincerely hoped that their actions hadn't led to any other problems for those poor people stuck there being accused of stealing their wands. But considering they were hunting down and destroying pieces of Voldemort's soul so as to kill him eventually, then she supposed it was a necessary risk.

"I'll lecture you about your cavalier attitude to mortal peril later," Minerva interrupted in a brittle voice, glaring at each of them in turn and making them squirm.

"We didn't have a choice-" Ron began weakly, but the Scottish woman held up a hand imperiously.

"Don't use your excuses on me, Mr Weasley."

Remus cleared his throat to interrupt them with a meaningful smirk, returning to his explanation.

"Anyway," he continued, "when we arrived he was nowhere to be found. But what we did find was a small entourage of Death Eaters also hunting him down. It seems they were trying to beat us to him. As you can imagine, the shock of running into each other passed quickly when they attacked. The fight was brutal. Hestia Jones was injured badly, but you probably don't know her. And Kingsley got a leg broken in three places. He's healing, but shaken. We managed to drive them off eventually. It was…bad. But we outnumbered them."  
"And the muggleborn?" Hermione asked.

"Nowhere to be seen. But we were somewhat distracted at this point. Because when the Death Eaters all started disapparating away from the fight, one of them…well…stayed."

"Stayed?" Harry repeated with a frown, cocking his head to one side.

"Yes. Once his companions had vanished, a lone figure in a mask and hood collapsed on his knees in front of us and offered his wand to us."

"He surrendered?"

"Sort of. He was…somewhat incapacitated. We're not even sure what was going through his mind. He was raving like a lunatic and could barely stay conscious. We tied him up and brought him back here…"

Hermione got a niggling suspicion, particularly when she noticed Minerva's eyes shifting to hers with an expression of concern.

"Who is it?"

Remus paused and shifted a bit uncomfortably in his seat.

"Who, Remus?" she pressed, leaning forwards as her mind started to fill in the blanks and anticipate his response.

"It's Draco Malfoy."

Ron and Harry both spluttered in shock, but she just heard the name ringing across the space as if she were very far away, looking down on herself. She felt oddly calm, almost like she had known this would happen the moment they heard the message blaring through that damn wireless.

"What the hell? Malfoy?" Harry spat with a frown, looking petulantly angry all of a sudden. He had not forgotten nor forgiven Malfoy for allowing the Death Eaters into Hogwarts that night when Dumbledore had been murdered. Even though, by his own admission, the blond had refused to raise his wand to harm the headmaster. There was still a well of bitterness between the two boys that had simmered and grown since the vanishing cabinet incident. Ron looked equally furious. Hermione exchanged a worried look with Minerva.

"Where is he?" Harry asked through gritted teeth.

Remus sighed and gestured to the ceiling.

"He's upstairs. We're holding him isolated in one of the spare rooms. He's restrained and wandless so he can't harm anyone or summon his friends."

Hermione gnawed nervously on her bottom lip as she contemplated the man before her.

"Has he explained himself? Has he given you any information about the Death Eaters?"

Harry snorted in derision.

"As if he would," he spat. Remus sighed and shook his head.

"Actually, he hasn't said a single word. He refuses to speak at all."

"Not even about why he gave himself up?"

"Nothing."

She frowned and raised a questioning eyebrow at her former head of house. The woman's lips twitched as she pursed them and she shook her head sadly to confirm what Remus was saying. But she looked uneasy and shot her colleague a disapproving look.

"We've tried everything," the werewolf continued, "Since we have no access to veritaserum, we're limited in how we can effectively interrogate him. We have attempted offering him food if he tells us the truth, but he seems happy to just starve. We have used curses to make him lose sleep so that he might slip up and say something in desperation, even tried showing him our memories of murders committed by Death Eaters to evoke some kind of reaction. But still he says nothing."

Hermione glared at the werewolf, a wave of revulsion sweeping over her as her gut clenched unpleasantly. Minerva was looking a bit sick too. The older woman now refused to meet Lupin's eye.

"Did you try asking nicely?" Hermione suggested curtly, folding her arms in front of herself. Remus scowled at her comment, but she just stared directly back at him with a challenge in her eye.

"I doubt he would respond to kindness from one of us."

"Muggles say that you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar," she retorted angrily.

"Yeh, well they never had to deal with this little Malfoy brat."

Harry nodded and turned to her.

"I agree. Come on Hermione, why would the git suddenly start being nice to us after everything he's said and done over the years? Why would he help us? He's a Death Eater."

"Who turned himself over," she argued.

Minerva held up a hand for silence.

"Enough." And even though they had all left school far behind this year, she still commanded the room easily. "Things became more… _bewildering_ two days ago, which is why we decided to send out that wireless broadcast."

"What happened? Did he hurt someone?" Ron asked.

Remus shook his head, shifting forwards in his seat and unlocking his fingers.

"Not exactly."

Minerva nodded to him and he withdrew something from his pocket, clasping it in his hand and giving each of them a significant look.

"We had of course searched him when we first brought him back here to make sure he didn't have any cursed objects or weapons. But yesterday Kingsley noticed that he would flinch away when we neared the top pocket of his shirt. We checked it out and revealed a charm sewn into the material of his shirt. And found _this_."

Hermione could just discern a dainty gold chain spilling out around his fingers from where he clasped the item in his hand.

"As soon as we tried to take it from him, he panicked. The boy went completely mental. He was yelling and spitting and trying to claw his way out of his rope bindings. He practically scratched the skin right off his palms trying to get free. He had to be subdued with a stunning spell."

Harry stared at the chain peaking out with trepidation.

"And why exactly did you call _us_ here, Remus?" he asked.

Remus sighed and observed them with a serious expression. When he spoke, he did so cautiously.

"That day you broke into the ministry… Arthur managed to hear a number of stories from people who were present in the courtroom when you confronted Umbridge. Old friends from the ministry who were still in contact with him. They all said that you grabbed something from her before you ran. A locket. And considering Minerva here saw Harry also take a locket from…Du…Dumbledore's body when he died, we thought it might have some significance to you. We were hoping you could help figure it out for us."

The three of them all gasped simultaneously, their eyes widening in surprise at the revelation. Hermione shook her head and shared a perplexed frown with the two boys. They had destroyed the locket. So anything found in the possession of Malfoy must therefore be a coincidence. But it was still intriguing nonetheless.

"May we see it?" Ron asked, donning a whimsical smile. He knew with a sort of cocky pride that he had been the one to destroy the locket. Harry shot him a warning glare as Remus nodded. He opened his palm to lay the piece of jewellery down on the kitchen table between them all. As he did, Hermione felt her heart clench painfully and her pulse spiked with a pang of horror. Her throat closed up and went dry as her fingers dug into her jeans. In a mere second her fingernails were burning from clawing at the coarse material on her thigh in desperate agony.

 _This must be some kind of sick joke…_

 _Oh fuck…_

 _How?_

These thoughts spiralled through her head like a tempest. She realised that she had stopped breathing and her face was flushed. She blinked rapidly. Surely there was some horrible mistake.

But no, there lying on the table was a fragile, feminine gold chain dropping down to support a gem in deep blue sapphire. The smooth elliptical shape of the gem was entwined in a gentle maze of gold leafing around it. It was as familiar to her as her own name. Distantly she realised that Remus was still speaking.

"It appears to be a birth stone, but sapphire is the September stone, and Minerva remembered that Malfoy's birthday is in June. Which begs the question why does he care so much about it? And does it contain any dark magic we can't detect? Given your recent experiences with acquiring lockets we thought you could shed some light on it."

Harry shook his head ruefully, tilting his head to the side and leaning closer to observe the pretty necklace.

"Sorry Remus, but we can't help you. We were looking for a very specific locket, which we found already. I have no idea why Malfoy would give a rat's ass about this one."

Ron voiced his agreement as well. Hermione gaped at the people sitting at the table before her with haunted, frantic eyes. She was feeling sort of numb inside though, and Minerva was looking at her strangely as though she suspected that something was unsettling her. Eventually she tried to stammer out some words, but had to clear her throat and try again when it came out as a croak.

"It's mine."

Everyone was staring at her now, all with varying degrees of shock. Remus was frowning at her in confusion, and the boys just looked dumbfounded.

"What?"

"Huh?"

She swallowed and spoke again more clearly.

"This locket belongs to me. My mother gave it to me when we were in fourth year to wear to the Yule Ball."

There was another moment of stunned silence around the table. It was so deafeningly quiet you could hear the creaking of the floorboards all the way up in the attic. Remus sat up straighter.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. It was my grandmother's."

Harry scowled accusingly.

"So why the bloody hell does Malfoy have it?"

She shook her head with a bit of a dazed expression.

"I have no idea. I thought I'd lost it. It disappeared in our sixth year. After everything that happened with Dumbledore… I was never able to find it. It was like it had vanished."

Ron spluttered angrily.

"That thief! Typical Malfoy. Rich little prick just steals stuff to get his rocks off!"

Hermione shared a look of concern with Minerva and the other woman sighed in unspoken agreement.

"I suspect it's more complicated than that."

"Why?" Harry asked belligerently.

"Because Malfoy clearly cherished it," their former head of house explained patiently, "You didn't see him when we tried to remove it from his possession. It was like he suffered some kind of psychotic breakdown."

"Maybe he was using it to curse Hermione!" Harry claimed loudly, looking at her with worry etching his brow, "Like…like some kind of voodoo charm."

"Don't be ridiculous. Curses simply don't work like that Harry, not from such a great distance anyway," she corrected with a puzzled frown. Tentatively she reached down and touched her fingertips to the necklace. There was no tingle of magic or recognition at all. Just cold metal. She caressed it softly with a mixture of anxiety and fond remembrance.

"I…I don't know why he would…" she began before falling silent and clenching her jaw involuntarily.

A memory flashed before her. One that she had not paid much thought to this year with everything else going on. She closed her eyes as her brows knitted together in distress.

 _Blood droplets trickling down to soak into crisp white sheets._

 _The sound of the wind howling and battering against glass._

 _A blond head curled up in agonised terror._

 _Malfoy's shoulders heaving with choked sobs._

 _The touch of soft skin._

 _Compassion._

 _Regret._

Hermione shook her head, realising that she hadn't thought of that night in a long time. It seemed like it had just been a feverish hallucination these days; so much had happened since then. And she usually didn't bother to pay it any mind, preferring to shut it out entirely. It was usually only in her weakest moments when she was alone or on watch in the bitterly cold, early hours of the morning that she let herself think about that night. About him. She couldn't deny how that night had changed her. It had changed both of them irrevocably.

Belatedly Hermione noticed that everyone was staring at her in a sort of frozen tableau of horror. Harry and Ron looked a bit sick at the though that Malfoy might have cursed her somehow. Remus appeared almost distrustful as he watched her closely, eyes narrowed. And Minerva's tender sympathy was almost unbearable, as if the former head of house knew exactly was going through her mind. Hermione felt her face drain of all colour and she suddenly stood up. The chair scraped loudly against the stone floor as she did, echoing in the uncomfortable silence. She was going to say something, even started to form the words, but in the end she simply couldn't meet with the looks of expectation and doubt on their faces.

"Excuse me," she muttered weakly, turning to flee the room in a few hurried paces.

Once she was outside she finally felt like she could breathe again and sucked in a long draft of chilly air, smelling the musty scent of old furniture and carpet. She leant her forehead against the cold wooden panelling of the hallway wall and clenched her eyes shut. Back inside the kitchen she could hear low murmuring voices speaking about her. But she didn't care. Her mind was consumed with the only question that seemed to matter right now.

 _Why did Draco Malfoy have my locket?_

 _…_ _._

 **Hopefully you are intrigued by this start and you keep reading. There will be some Draco POV soon, I promise. Let me know what you think and why do you think he has the locket? What would you like to see from my new story? Review please. Ciao.**


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

 **Thank you for your** ** _marvellous_** **response to the first chapter. Reviews really give me the oomph to keep writing. I can tell that some of you are quite snappy with your opinions about what is going on between these two. As usual, all questions will be answered in good time. Wish they were mine, but they all belong to JKR. Enjoy.**

 **...**

The house was dark and eerily quiet when Hermione finally crept out from her room. She had holed herself up in one of the spare bedrooms she stayed in with Ginny years before, dismissing the thick layer of dust suffocating every surface of the room with an impatient flick of her wand. Stubbornly she had stayed there for several hours, not wanting to face the boys yet. Her thoughts were too consumed by questions and doubt.

She had no idea what Malfoy was playing at, and the uncertainty was driving her mad. Hermione knew that the blond Slytherin confined upstairs was not overly fond of her. There was simply no reason why he should have her grandmother's locket in his possession. Each possible explanation she came up with was more ludicrous than the last. From the outside it seemed as though it was something he treasured, if Minerva's story was true. But that was ridiculous. No matter what had happened between them or what they may have experienced, she was pretty sure he still thought that she was dirt under his shoe. His contempt for her during most of their schooling years had cemented this image in her mind and she could not rationally overcome the feeling. Sure, he seemed to have softened in that last year, but he still glared at her, sneered at her, and generally gave her his familiar expression of intense disgust whenever she was near him.

Perhaps he had not willingly surrendered to the Order at all, she thought, winding her way down to the kitchen while taking care not to step too heavily on any of the creaking stairs she remembered. Perhaps they had confused his actions and he was actually not giving himself over to their side. It was possible. In that case, he might be holding onto her locket as a sort of talisman to remind him of his hatred for muggleborns and why he had become a Death Eater in the first place. Though deep down she knew this was not true.

Breathing out a weary sigh, she crept into the kitchen in search of something more to eat. She had stormed out of there before she had been able to finish her stew earlier, and her stomach was letting its displeasure be known with low growls and the occasional clenching of cramps. It had been such a long time since they'd had a really hearty meal, that she didn't even register the low flickering of candlelight in the room before her. As she sidled in through the door and across to the fridge, Hermione heard the faint clearing of a throat and jumped in surprise.

"I thought you'd be back after the boys were in bed."

Hermione exhaled in relief as the tension left her shoulder. Her former head of house sat there smiling wryly at her over the top of her spectacles.

"You gave me a fright," Hermione confessed, coming over to join the older woman at the kitchen table. There was a twinkle in McGonagall's green eyes.

"My guess is that you have come searching for food, yes?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed, pressing a hand to her abdomen, "And this time I'm actually going to eat it and not go stomping off in a huff!"

Minerva actually chuckled, waving her wand to summon a hot, steaming new serving of the stew with some beautifully buttered bread. Hermione did not even wait for it to hover down and land gently on the table in front of her before she was ripping off a big chunk of crust and devouring it.

"Mister Potter and Mister Weasley were getting rather worried about you. I slipped some sleeping draught into their tea just to get some peace and quiet."

Hermione snorted inelegantly and shook her head.

"I'm afraid that their response to anything even remotely related to Malfoy is usually quite heated, Harry in particular."

"Yes, it would seem their schoolboy rivalry is not limited to merely Hogwarts. I hoped Potter at least would have matured a bit, though," Minerva commented with a slight frown on her thin lips. Hermione shrugged her shoulders in response.

"He has. But when it comes to Draco Malfoy, Harry can only ever see in black and white. He has a Dark Mark, therefore he's a Death Eater, and therefore he's evil."

Minerva nodded in thoughtful agreement.

"And what about you? If I may say, you clearly don't agree with your friends' opinions."

Hermione shook her head, blowing cool air and then taking a careful sip of her stew as she considered her answer.

"I think… he's troubled."

"How so?"

"It was obvious that his heart wasn't in it when he let those Death Eaters into Hogwarts. Harry admitted himself that Malfoy lowered his wand and didn't curse Professor Dumbledore. And that whole year he just seemed so… drained."

The older woman nodded with interest.

"That's certainly true. His grades started slipping quite shockingly, and he never seemed as concerned about trying to beat _you_ either."

"He changed so much that year…" Hermione noted in a faint whisper, pitched just loud enough for Minerva to hear her.

"I agree. Unfortunately the rest of the Order is determined to believe that he is no better than his father. A sadistic Death Eater and no more."

Hermione's brows scrunched together as she swallowed a heavy mouthful of food, feeling it pass painfully down her throat.

"What have they been doing to him? Lupin mentioned some… rather unsavoury interrogation tactics."

Minerva pursed her lips and shook her head sadly.

"Unfortunately I don't have much sway over the Order. Despite being close to Albus, I was always isolated at Hogwarts, protecting it in his absence. Until this year, anyway. That was my station. But from what I can gather, I think their big plan is simply to make him break and confess his supposedly evil plan, despite being truly disorganised."

"It's barbaric."

"It's war. To them it's part of the fight. They believe a little torture is worth it, for the greater good."

"And what about the good _inside_ us? What happens when we slowly turn into them?"

Minerva nodded in tense agreement.

"My thoughts exactly. With luck they will grow bored with him and realise he is just a pawn. Just a victim of circumstance."

Hermione observed her former mentor closely for a long moment before she responded.

"Is that what _you_ think? That he's innocent?"

"I do. I wasn't so sure at first. But then we found your necklace. Hermione… you didn't see his reaction when Remus tried to take it from him. It was quite a shock."

"Please tell me," she asked, finishing off the last of her stew and pushing the bowl away with a feeling of fullness she hadn't experienced in quite some time. Minerva stared at her fixedly.

"Malfoy went to pieces. He started to yank wildly at his bonds and scratched at himself. He was yelling incoherently at first, but then eventually it became clearer. He was screaming _No, don't take it_ over and over again, and his eyes were demented. I honestly thought he would give himself an aneurysm. And then he said _your_ name. It came out a bit strangled, and I think the only reason I heard was because I was standing so close to him. I'm quite certain that Remus didn't catch that part, thankfully. What struck me the most actually was that he said your _first_ name. Not Granger, but _Hermione_."

Her forehead was creased in abject confusion as she took in this new information. Her hands shook a bit where they gripped the edge of the table and she had to lick her lips before she spoke.

"But… I don't understand. Why? Why would he…uh…" She paused and tried to gather her thoughts, but they were in turmoil, "It doesn't make sense."

"Consider it carefully, Hermione. Can you think of any reason why Mister Malfoy would have formed some kind of attachment to you?"

She shook her head numbly.

"No. Not… not exactly. I mean there was this one time….but…uh…I'm pretty sure he still hates me. I mean, in sixth year he didn't actively torment me like he used to, but he certainly never _liked_ me or even paid any attention to me at all."

Minerva pursed her lips in a frown.

"Would you be prepared to speak with him? He might actually respond to you."

Hermione sighed and stared at the wall next to them in consternation. A million thoughts and feelings spun through her head at once; anxiety, fear, hope, self-doubt. But underpinning all of this was an insatiable curiosity that had blossomed inside her ever since Remus had revealed that golden necklace. She needed to know why Draco Malfoy had developed some kind of strange connection to her. She needed a way to rationalise his behaviour in her mind. So that left her with little choice.

"Yes… I suppose I must," she agreed gently, slumping forwards to lean her chin on one hand, "But I'm not sure what I would say to him."

Minerva smiled reassuringly at her.

"Just follow your instincts. They've got you this far."

"And what if I make things worse?"

Her mentor huffed out a terse breath and gave an indulgent shake of the head.

"Hermione, dear, I don't think you could make it any worse even if you tried. I'll talk to Remus and Kingsley tomorrow and convince them to let you talk to him alone. They probably wont like it."

Hermione scoffed.

"Well I'm sure it will still be an improvement on _their_ methods."

"No doubt," Minerva replied with a slight smile, "Now you'd better get some sleep in a real bed for once so you'll feel refreshed tomorrow."

"Yes, Professor."

Her old teacher shook her head fondly and gave her a pat on the shoulder as they both rose.

"You can call me Minerva now, Hermione. I'm no longer your Professor."

"I'll try. I can't promise I will be able to break old habits though."

The two of them chuckled and then Hermione nodded politely and slipped from the room. As she slowly climbed up the first set of stairs, she peered upwards through the creaky stairwell. It went up quite far. The building was narrow but tall. And _he_ was up there somewhere.

As she dragged her feet higher, Hermione contemplated Draco Malfoy with a steadily pounding heart knocking against her ribs. She only hoped that tomorrow might yield some answers. But she wasn't counting on it.

….

….

 _She's here. She came…_

A blond head lifted up. The chin slowly pulled back from where it had fallen, heavy and wet with drool, from a stiff shoulder. Eyes, crusted from sleep and tears, blinked sluggishly open. There was not much to see beyond the darkness and the erratic flickering of a decrepit street lamp.

The only actual sign that there was another living soul in this damned house was the rusty shuddering of the pipes every so often. Although the room itself was charmed silent, blocking out all human noises from outside, the pipes ran underneath the floorboards of the room itself, and so he could tell when people were using the bathroom directly below. He could also feel the thrumming vibrations of the staircase as people heaved themselves up its rickety frame, even if he could not hear the footsteps themselves.

But then something had shifted this afternoon. The sudden tingle of recognition was like a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. It was a presence inside the house that he had thought he might never experience again. His magic prickled with awareness and he yearned for a wand to break free from his restraints. Naturally the frantic surge of terror he felt had left him trying to deny it for several hours. He even thought maybe he was hallucinating or this was merely another torture device designed to entice him deeper into madness. It surely wasn't possible. But when McGonagall silently delivered his dinner earlier – a sloppy stew that he could eat with his one freed hand – he knew that it must be true. Not the least because they had actually bothered to feed him after days and days of starving, or however long it had been. But then the old woman came very close to him to partially untie him. And when he took in a deep, urgent breath of that stew, his nostrils filled with the faint tinge of something else clinging faintly to her robes.

 _Lavender and honey…_

The scent was painfully familiar. He wasn't even able to hide his visceral reaction to it, jolting forwards in his seat to get closer. Just the mild hint of that smell evoked so many memories. Crying into a warm shoulder, his nose pressed against the soft skin of her neck. Those big brown eyes wide and milky with compassion.

Draco Malfoy was no fool. He was desperate, angry, miserable and lonely. But not stupid. He knew that the thread he felt joining him to Hermione Granger was paper thin and fragile. The history between them was complicated and murky. And he wasn't even sure if he particularly liked her. She was an infuriating, bossy little swot. But that didn't prevent the twinge of anticipation that was fluttering deep in his gut, knowing she was here. Given the timing, it was likely she was here because of him. And after that incident with the necklace, he was wondering whether he would now actually get to see her, speak to her. They surely must have figured out that it was hers by now.

Draco lifted a shaky hand and scratched numbly at the skin just below his collarbone. He could remember the feeling of the necklace's sapphire pendant pressed warmly there for many months, the weight of it so calming. Until he had tried to hide it in his jacket of course, where it had eventually been found. When the werewolf had taken it from him he had finally cracked. Months of pent up frustration and helplessness had given way to fury. He had tried to stop the wolf from laying his dirty hands on it, but had been unsuccessful. And now it was gone. And instead Hermione herself was _here._

Draco shook his head and dropped it down to stare fiercely at the floor. It was only a matter now of counting down the minutes until she arrived here in his room. Then he could finally lay eyes on her and not some old muggle pendant that was ultimately a hollow replacement of her. In the meantime he would spend every moment considering what he was going to say to her. He was very aware that she probably still hated him. One wrong word and he might find himself cast out at the mercy of Death again. But he thought vaguely that it would almost be worth it just to see her face one last time.

….

….

Hermione had finally snapped and told all the men in the room to stop lecturing her on what to do. Everyone wanted to give their share of advice. Harry, Ron, Remus and even Kingsley and Bill Weasley were there, each doling out recommendations on the kinds of topics she should bring up and talk about with Malfoy. How to get him to speak. Where to sit. Even whether or not she should smile or stay serious. She had listened patiently, inwardly rolling her eyes, for a solid ten minutes before she'd had enough.

"This is ridiculous. I'm just going to talk to him. I don't need tips on how to have a conversation. I'll just play it by ear."

Ron had snorted at her, his grin spreading wide.

"I never thought I'd hear you say that. You always have a plan."

Hermione grimaced, shooting him a small glare.

"Yes, because all our plans have been so successful this year," she grumbled sarcastically. Remus had shaken his head at their light-hearted banter.

"This is important, Hermione. He could be dangerous."

"He's tied up with no wand. I think I'll be alright. I'm sure the worst he can do is snarl and call me a mudblood."

The others had flinched at the word and she jumped to her feet, not wanting to deal with any more unsolicited instruction.

"Just trust me," she had muttered forcefully, tossing her braid back behind her shoulder and leaving the room to the sounds of spluttered protests. Minerva had sent her a sly wink as she passed her on the way out.

That had brought her here. Standing outside the room that contained Draco Malfoy, and feeling her heart drum against her ribs. She felt a little nauseous about the whole thing. With a clammy hand, she reached forward and grappled with the doorknob. It took a couple of clumsy twists to open, probably because she was shaking so hard with nerves. And then she was slipping into the room, her footfalls soft and hesitant.

Malfoy was instantly recognisable by the colour of his hair; that sleek, white blond paired with his pointed features gave him a sharp and painfully familiar profile. She walked around until she was facing him. It was only then that she noticed what was different about him. He was thinner, horribly so. And his hair, which used to be slick and perfectly posed, was limp as it fell raggedly over his forehead. Malfoy had always been pale, but now his skin was white as a ghost, practically translucent.

But it was when he raised his head that Hermione saw the biggest changes to his appearance. Hollow, haunted eyes stared up at her from his place bound to a chair. The purplish shade rimming his eyes underneath was so dark he appeared bruised, and his lips were cracked and dry.

All in all, he looked like he was about to pass out from exhaustion, as if he hadn't slept in the entire year since she'd last seen him. Despite this, Malfoy's eyes widened into an almost comically large expression of hope when he saw her. Hermione felt her stomach flutter again. She tried to tamp down the butterflies and look serious as she stood before him. But there was no mistaking the suddenly open features of his face and the entreaty she found there.

"Hello…uh…hi…Malfoy."

Her first words came out as a rather inept croak, and she winced at how stupid she sounded. Brushing her embarrassment away, she transfigured a nearby doorstop into a wooden chair identical to his, sitting in front of him like a mirror image.

Malfoy didn't say anything; he was still drinking in the sight of her. But he did incline his head slightly in acknowledgement and nervously lick his lips. They sat in uncomfortable silence for a long time before Hermione finally worked up the courage to say something. She wiped her sweaty palms on the tops of her jeans.

"You…um…you look tired."

Malfoy nodded. He cocked his head slightly to one side and observed her, but didn't respond verbally. She took a deep breath and tried a different approach.

"The others said you surrendered to them. Is that true?"

The blond nodded stiffly.

"Does your father know?"

He shook his head. Hermione sighed and her gaze hardened.

"Are you going to actually say _anything_ to me?" she asked, starting to lose patience. The Slytherin boy swallowed and then leaned forward to mimic her stance. The only difference was that his feet were each tied to a leg of the chair, and his wrists were bound in front of him. When he still didn't speak, she grit her teeth and continued,

"Because if you're just going to sit there then I may as well leave-"

But as she shifted to stand up, Malfoy's took in a deep breath, eyes even wider.

"Don't go."

His voice was a rasping whisper. If it hadn't been so eerily quiet in the room she might not have heard him. It was possible he hadn't actually spoken out loud to anyone in a long time.

"Then talk to me," she challenged.

Malfoy shrugged one shoulder weakly, his brow furrowing into a dark scowl.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Why don't you tell me why you gave yourself up?"

The blond boy's lip twitched and he made a low scoffing sound.

"So we'll just start with the easy questions then?" he sneered. Hermione quirked one eyebrow up at him, her expression defiant.

"Don't you think you owe them an explanation? You wanted the Order to capture you and now they have."

Malfoy's jaw clenched and he stared at her intently.

"Why do you refer to your friends as _them?_ "

"Excuse me?"

"You said I owe _them_ an explanation. Not _us._ Are you not part of the infamous Order of the Phoenix?"

Hermione tapped her foot on the creaky floor irritably.

"Last I checked, I wasn't the one with the dubious loyalties here."

"I have no loyalties."

She considered his comment very carefully. Based on the stubborn, almost petulant expression on his face, she realised that he was telling the truth. He belonged to no one. Not the Death Eaters and not the Order. Based on his wide-eyed, anguished stare she thought maybe he was just trying to survive. She observed him thoughtfully for a long moment before she spoke again.

"Why won't you talk to the others? They claim that you haven't said a word to them."

He copied her by lifting an eyebrow a bit wryly, a near smile almost cracking his stern expression.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"No."

He shrugged, his movement restricted by his bonds.

"They're not _you_."

Hermione frowned. She leaned forward in her seat as a strange tingle crawled up her spine. Their gazes were locked with an intensity that sucked the air from her lungs. Her brown eyes were fixed on his steely grey ones.

"I really don't understand, Malfoy. Why me? You hate me."

"I don't…" he paused and swallowed slowly, his eyelashes fluttering as he took a deep breath, "I'm not the same person I used to be. I don't hate you."

"That still wouldn't explain your willingness to… _chat…_ with me _._ I don't even have a role in the Order. The three of us aren't part of it, not really."

"So?"

She sighed and fiddled unconsciously with the end of her braid, which was draped over one shoulder.

" _So…_ I can't do anything for you. I have no power here to get you what you want."

Malfoy tilted his head to one side again.

"Who says I want anything?"

"Oh please. Why else would you be here?"

He gave her a long look, his stare making her shiver. She squirmed a bit in her seat.

"Sanctuary, perhaps," he murmured quietly.

Hermione had no response to that, but the idea troubled her. That Malfoy would be so desperate to fight for his life that he would throw himself into the hands of people he hated was terrifying. It made her feel both curious and horrified about what he had probably endured over the last year or so.

"Actually, there is one thing I would like…" he added when she didn't speak for a long time. Hermione had been staring unfocused at a spot on the floor, but she raised her eyes to his again.

"Hmm?"

"I want to lie down."

"Lie down?" She asked in disbelief, unsettled by the unexpected request. Draco nodded, shifting in his seat with a pained grimace as his back popped and cracked audibly.

"I've been sitting upright for so fucking long. It's driving me mental. Even before I came here I hadn't slept in days. I just want to rest my head on something."

He looked at her beseechingly, and she wondered faintly what had happened to his notorious hubris. Years ago he would have been far too proud, or possibly arrogant, to reveal such vulnerability. Unless he was playing up an injury to annoy Harry of course or to get special attention from Lucius. But that was different. He had rarely showed true weakness. Hermione felt her heart clench with sympathy. Even if he was full of shit and manipulating her, she still couldn't bear to seeing anyone in pain. And he certainly wasn't faking the exhaustion on his face; the swollen eyes or the skin that had almost a yellow tinge in places.

"I…I could…" Hermione paused to consider the dilemma. She glanced down at her wand. She knew it was probably a bad idea to start throwing spells around or releasing him from his bonds. Remus and the others would have a fit. But damnit, she was the only one Malfoy seemed willing to communicate with. That made him _her_ responsibility. Setting her jaw firmly in determination, she flicked her wand and the cords that had been spelled to contain him vanished.

"Don't move," she warned him, training her wand on him. It was pointed directly at his face. His eyes widened a bit in fear, but she also noticed the way he shifted his hands to rub cautiously at his bruised wrists.

"Will you get in trouble for this?" he croaked.

"Probably."

"You can restrain me again if you have to. Just please let me move to the bed."

Hermione observed the dusty old bed he was referring to, up against the wall in the far corner of the room.

"Alright, let's go."

Malfoy rose unsteadily to his feet. He swayed there for a moment, blinking rapidly. Then his hand was grasping the back of the chair to regain balance as he started to topple.

"Are you okay?" she asked, feeling conflicted. She wanted to help him, but she knew it would be incredibly foolish to get to close to him. She might pity him, but she certainly didn't trust him yet.

"I think so. Just dizzy," he responded in a slurred voice.

She made a few wand movements towards the bed, instantly clearing it of dust and grime and adding a refreshing charm or two. Then she transfigured the old quilt to be thicker and the pillow a bit fluffier.

"You got pretty good at nonverbal magic," he commented sluggishly as he stumbled over to the mattress. Hermione nodded, watching him carefully as he pulled himself up onto the bed.

"Incantations waste time," she murmured a bit defensively, but he just smirked at her. Once Malfoy had pulled himself fully onto the bed he let out a long, throaty groan. He slowly stretched his body out and rested his head down on the pillow with a look of bliss on his face, eyes closed.

"It's the simple things you take for granted-" he whispered.

Hermione sidled closer until she was next to him. She considered the situation with a frown of concentration.

"Are you hungry?"

He nodded and she summoned a bowl of the stew from last night. It landed with a thunk on the bedside table.

"I've charmed it to stay warm, so you can take your time."

Then she allowed her wand to hover over his prone form as she conjured bindings. Instead of strapping him in too tightly as before, she merely tied a single bond around one ankle. She made sure he couldn't remove it, either magically or physically, but gave him room to manoeuvre around the length of the bed.

"I think…that's probably good enough. I hope so. I'll still be in big trouble. Are you in any pain?"

Malfoy finally opened his eyes then to blink owlishly up at her.

"Nothing urgent. Granger…"

It was the first time he had said her name. She felt her shoulders tense up, but not in disgust. It was rather an instinctive response to the low, purring tone of his voice.

"Yes?" she asked, feigning a calmness she didn't feel.

"You will come back again, won't you? You're not leaving? I barely got a chance to…say…all the things I wanted to say…"

Hermione stared at him for a seemingly endless moment.

"No, I'm not leaving. I'll visit you again tomorrow. I have more questions, you know I do."

The blond boy smirked sleepily, clearly already starting to drift off.

"Till tomorrow then."

And then, because she must surely be going crazy, or maybe the dusty confines of the room were causing her to lose control of her senses, she murmured,

"Goodnight."

Without waiting for a response, Hermione bolted from the room. She shut the door firmly behind her and rested her head back against it. Her heart was pounding and a headache was forming behind her eyes. But most of all, she was remembering the stale, chemical smell of the hospital wing at Hogwarts. And how a similarly fragile Malfoy had pleaded with her to stay with him until he fell asleep. Shuddering, she wondered if history was going to start repeating itself.

….

….

 **Let me know what you think of the unfolding mystery. How was the first meeting between our main characters? What would you like to see happen between them next time? Please review.**


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

 **Hello. Another chapter for your perusal. Lots and lots of dramione interaction to be had here. Voila. Enjoy. JKR is as always the owner and proprietor. I borrow.**

 **...**

The next time she came to see him, Draco was much better prepared. He had survived that first heart-stopping meeting with her. He had managed to sit through it with relative poise and dignity, succumbing to very little grovelling, despite the insistent urge he felt within him to just drop to his knees and beg for her help. All in all he was quite pleased with himself. He was pretty sure he hadn't come across as some kind of deranged psychopath. That was a positive start, right? Considering the history between them it could only continue to go uphill. Calling her filthy names and insulting her intelligence, manners and looks weren't the best foundation to work with, but he was determined to make sure she put all that behind them and saw him for who he was today.

He still wasn't entirely clear about what exactly he wanted from her. His mind was still coming to terms with his own panicked actions. Draco wasn't exactly known for his spontaneity. And surrendering to the Order was _not_ something he'd planned thoroughly. It had just been a matter of the right timing. Timing and hope. The hope that he had nurtured deep inside him since the end of their fifth year at Hogwarts. At first he wasn't sure where the feeling of hope had come from. But maybe he had just been lying to himself, denying the reality of it all. It was all tied inexorably to Hermione Granger. A notion that he had barely thought possible before all this. But now he _needed_ to hold onto the idea of her. He needed it like he needed oxygen. His sanity had been anchored to that one fleeting memory of her, bolstered by the feeling of strength he received when he impulsively took possession of that seemingly insignificant sapphire necklace.

Naturally, Draco had blamed everything and everyone he could for his discomforting obsession. Maybe she had cursed him or he was under some kind of spell. _Or maybe_ , his soul cried out through the darkness of despair, _it was merely the balm of human connection_. He didn't know why this had plagued him. But he could admit one simple truth. That hope had kept him alive.

So when Hermione came to visit him for a second time, the very next day, he felt much more confident and in control of himself. That was, until she actually walked in the room. Then his gut wrenched with a spasm of anxiety and he suddenly found his mouth too dry to even say a simple greeting. He was sitting upright, with his legs swung over the side of the bed. He was still tethered to it, but he was comfortable and much more at ease. Except for the fact that every muscle in his body tensed up when he saw her brown curls enter the room. He may as well be strapped inhumanely into that damn chair again, since he was now frozen with no apparent ability for speech or movement.

 _Why does Granger affect me like this?_ He pondered wryly as she settled herself into a chair next to the bed, her body language tense but determined. He squirmed subtly on the mattress, straightening his posture to make himself seem more outwardly composed. But inside his pulse was racing so fast he could hear it pounding in his eardrums. She offered him a small, nervous smile, but her jaw was just a tad strained. A muscle twitched in her cheek.

They made for a strange pair, both not willing to break the silence and be the first to speak. He didn't waste the time, though. Draco watched her closely as he waited, his gaze so intent he could see her prickle self-consciously. Granger had never been particularly attractive in their younger years. No one could have really called her beautiful. But what had seemed gawky or clumsy in youth suited her quite well now. The hair that was once a wavy, unkempt halo bursting out from her bony frame now appeared voluminous and softer than silk. Maybe it was the length that had altered it so. It had been shorter back then, but she had grown it out long and the weight of it dragged it down into thicker, rounder curls. As a child, her teeth had also been large and bucked forwards in her mouth, but as her body changed through adolescence, her smile had become charming, instead of awkward. Although he suspected magic was also involved. And there was simply no denying the gradual emergence of a womanly figure, perfectly soft skin or the refreshing prettiness of a face untainted by make-up.

And yet none of these things were what made her really striking today. In truth, it was her eyes. Those soulful, impossibly deep brown eyes that reflected a fierce intellect. Draco had been attracted to many gorgeous, but dim-witted and vapid girls in his youth. But now he had to admit to himself that raw intelligence was actually unexpectedly sexy. And that wasn't the only thing made her eyes so fascinating. It was the way that her dauntingly sharp stare was softened by the weight of her compassion. The kindness she expressed in every minute flicker of her gaze took his breath away.

These were all things he had first started to realise back at the end of their fifth year. When they had broken all those barriers down between them for one foolish, surreal moment. The feeling had only grown since then – not that she had any clue how deeply that night had affected him. And now, sitting in front of her so close he could touch her if he lifted his hand, the feeling was stronger than it had ever been before.

It was this that roused him to speak, to actually be open with her for only the second time in his pitiful life.

"Thank you for helping me yesterday."

Granger seemed surprised by his opening words. She cocked her head to one side in mild confusion.

"I didn't do anything," she retorted, causing him to smile indulgently.

"You did. You treated me like a human being. It's been… a long time since I have been spoken to with any kindness."

Her confusion quickly morphed to shock, no doubt taken aback by his rather frank manner and confession. He smirked.

"I have surprised you," he murmured, raising one eyebrow questioningly.

"No," she disagreed softly, leaning forward to rest her chin on her palm, "I'm not surprised. The Death Eaters aren't exactly renowned for being tender hearted, are they? But I do feel…" she sighed, as if contemplating the right label for her emotions. She frowned and finally settled on an answer, "I feel uneasy about it. I can't imagine what it must have been like for you."

Draco decided to brush the topic to one side for now. He wasn't exactly ready to recount his experiences yet. They were too fresh. He was genuinely worried he would fall apart completely if he started remembering, started sharing it with her.

"Did you get in trouble?" he asked instead.

Granger shrugged lightly.

"Not exactly. I did start to hear the predictable lectures about our safety and whether or not we can trust you… but I just told them to get over it. They may not like it, but you're here now, and I refuse to let anyone treat you with cruelty. We should be better than that."

Draco considered her words carefully, wondering what it was about Hermione Granger that shone through every speck of her soul like a beam of warm light. It was like the feeling of every hair on every inch of his body warming by a crackling fire, thawing away the iciness of despair.

"Do _you_ trust me?" he asked curiously. But she quickly gave him a rather direct, impertinent look, raising one eyebrow challengingly.

"Of course not. Don't be ridiculous. You haven't given me any reason to trust you yet."

"Yet?"

"There's a vague possibility, I suppose. I wouldn't want to rule it out in the future."

Draco smirked.

"Then why care so much about how I'm treated now?"

"Because it's who I am."

Her response was so simple and so direct, that he was a bit stunned. Years ago he would have sneered at her Gryffindor sentimentality. But now he couldn't help but respect her.

"Then I will have to endeavour to earn your trust, to repay you for your kindness."

Granger frowned, tapping her foot nervously.

"You don't owe me anything, Malfoy"

"Let's agree to disagree."

The curly haired witch pursed her lips, observing him carefully for a long time before she flicked her wand surreptitiously and a pot of tea appeared on the bedside table between them. Still darting her eyes up to regard him every now and then, she poured two cups of tea. She pushed one towards him and he took it gratefully. The first sip scalded his tongue a bit, but it was a welcome sensation. He wasn't sure when he'd last enjoyed a cup of tea. It seemed like a luxury from the distant past.

"Will you tell me why you decided to surrender to the Order?" she asked quietly after a brief pause, drinking from her own cup. Draco sighed. He stayed silent for a very long time contemplating the question. So long that she started to squirm impatiently. Of course she had opened with the same difficult question, typical bossy Gryffindor. At least this time he felt slightly more braced and ready to answer it.

"I didn't have a choice," he finally admitted in a soft voice, "I felt…trapped. Although to be honest I didn't really fully think it through. Until that moment I'm not sure I actually intended to give myself up."

"You weren't planning to do it?"

Draco snorted with a slightly contemptuous expression.

"And end up here? Hell no. But I didn't exactly have many options."

"What do you mean?"

"The way I saw it, I had three choices. Stay there and die. Run away and die. Or try and find some kind of protection, but probably still die anyway. At least the third option had a slim chance of success."

Granger bit gently into her bottom lip as she considered him.

"I never knew you were such a cynic."

"No, Granger, I'm a realist."

She released a slow breath and shifted forwards in her seat. Her gaze was intent and shiver inducing.

"You seem to think that if you stayed with the Death Eaters, you would die. Do you really believe the Order of the Phoenix would have killed you in that battle or maybe even the next one?"

Draco shuddered a bit at the thought of opening this door, of talking about his fears. But he knew he had chosen to go down this road, and he also knew Granger had impeccable integrity and discretion. She might not be able to trust him yet, but he could trust her implicitly.

"I wasn't talking about the Order killing me. I can hold my own. But if I had stayed, it was only a matter of time before a Death Eater or even the Dark Lord himself finally got rid of me."

Granger reeled back in shock.

"What? Why would they kill one of their own?"

"Because I _wasn't_ one of them. I thought I could tolerate it. I thought it might even finally make my father proud of me if I just tried... But I never wanted to hurt anyone."

"And for that they'd kill you?"

Draco snorted a bit fatalistically, his eyes turning haunted.

"If you're not _with_ them, then you're against them."

"That's horrific…"

"You have no idea."

Granger actually looked a little bit sick at the thought. Draco sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He drained his teacup in one more sip.

"Every time I refused to torture someone or kill a random muggle when I was ordered to, every time I chickened out of something or even hesitated, it became worse. The punishments for being weak were…" he paused and swallowed, choking slightly on the words and on the memories associated with them.

"They hurt you?" she asked in a hushed voice, as if afraid to discuss it aloud at all. Draco nodded, rubbing the back of his neck absently, "Oh Malfoy, what did they do to you?" Her face was filled with pity, eyes more impossibly deep and pained than he had ever seen them before. It gave him confidence to continue.

"It varied, depending on who was displeased with me."

"Who…?" she began, but he interrupted.

"Bellatrix is very fond of the Cruciatus curse. It doesn't leave a mark and she enjoys the screams. If I didn't torture them, she tortured me. That was her policy. My fath… _Lucius_ on the other hand doesn't like getting his hands dirty. He would just chain me up and starve me if I was _being ungrateful_ as he put it. Or he'd leave me trapped in a room with Fenrir Greyback-" Draco's skin crawled and he felt the familiar lurching in his gut.

"The werewolf…?"

"Yes. He didn't touch me of course. But I had to watch…awful things."

Draco blanched and fell silent. He couldn't go on any more. He felt a bit sweaty and he was trembling. He balled up his hands into fists to hide it. Granger looked disgusted. There was a deep crease in her forehead between her eyebrows and he watched her visibly swallow as she processed the information.

"Did Vo…You Know Who punish you because you didn't kill Professor Dumbledore?"

Draco's heart skipped.

"Yes. But…please don't ask me to talk about that. I can't," he begged quietly, and she nodded very quickly to placate him.

"I won't. You don't have to say or do anything you don't want to, Malfoy."

"Thank you."

"Okay, I get it. Clearly you had to escape… but why not just run away?"

Draco shifted awkwardly on the small mattress. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to block out the memory pressing insistently on his mind of watching Karkaroff being paraded in front of them, tied and bleeding…

"No. He always finds them. Always."

Granger nodded slowly, watching him warily but he could see the mollification in her gaze too, reassuring him that she wouldn't press for details. It was clear that he didn't want to discuss it. He wasn't quite ready.

"So that brought you…here."

"Yes. At least he can't find me here. For now. He may even think I was captured during the fight. I didn't reveal my intentions to anyone."

The curly haired witch looked distinctly unsettled by the whole thing. She chewed on her lip nervously and was twisting her fingers together. It was actually pretty adorable the way he could see the thoughts whirring through her head at a fast pace. The way her nose crinkled slightly as she contemplated him. She didn't even realise how much emotion she expressed on her face. She was an open book.

"That still doesn't explain… I mean… why not just talk to Remus or Kingsley? Why stay quiet? You could have just explained this to them."

Draco snorted.

"Would they have believed me?"

"Of cour—okay, maybe not," she changed her mind mid-sentence, her cheeks flushing with something that resembled guilt or embarrassment. The pink cheeks made her look almost sweet, but so very vulnerable. She continued, "But I don't see the point in not even _trying_ to vindicate yourself."

He sighed and pointed angrily towards the door.

"Those people out there hate me. And with good reason. I was a spiteful little shit to most of them. And believe it or not I still despise every single one of them. The feeling is most definitely mutual. They don't want to believe that I could either need asylum, or that I would be worthy of it. I'm a Death Eater. And the son of Lucius fucking Malfoy. I can't be trusted, remember?"

"And what about me?" Granger argued, her cheeks flushing as she set her brow in a scowl of stubborn determination, "You were nastier to me than you were towards any of those people. I have absolutely no reason to think well of you either. So why talk to me?"

Draco grit his teeth and frowned sternly at her.

"You _know_ why."

She blinked a few times, shaking her head in denial, though he wasn't convinced she was that naïve. He sighed, forcing himself to be patient and leaned forwards to rest his elbows on his knees, bringing him closer to her. So close her scent washed over him in a dizzying rush. Lavender and honey.

"Granger, you're not stupid. You know why I wanted to see you. Don't you remember? This is not the first time we've spoken like this."

Granger blushed prettily, darting her head down so that her hair fell slightly to cover her face. She gnawed on her bottom lip until it turned a dark red. Then she looked back up at him. This time her eyes held a challenge in them.

"Even so…I'm just a filthy mudblood, right?"

Draco physically stopped himself from wincing. He knew it would come back to haunt him. But whether he liked it or not, he _had_ believed it all once upon a time. He had looked down on her. He had scorned and belittled her because of her blood status. Because she was smart and powerful and he had hated her for it. He cleared his throat when he felt an uncomfortable lump resting there. He maintained eye contact as evenly as he could.

"After everything…I don't think it really matters to me anymore. I'm tired of being such a prat, tired of being filled with so much hatred."

Contrary to what he expected, Granger actually glared at him, straightening her spine and looking intensely disappointed.

"So that's it? You didn't change your opinion of me because you realised it was _wrong,_ you just grew tired of it?"

Draco stared at her in shock, not understanding how he could have phrased it so poorly to give her this impression.

"No…I didn't… I mean, of course I…"

"And did you think that by acting as if you accept a muggleborn, you might be more likely to convince the Order to help you?"

" _No!_ "

"You said you were merely _tired_ of being cruel, not actually remorseful."

Draco blindly reached out and grabbed her hand as she made to push off her chair and stand up. Feeling his touch on her skin made her freeze, however, and she stayed sitting in front of him, her eyes accusing and wild. Draco barely registered the action or what had made him do it. He just needed to get through to her.

"I was a fool, Granger. I still feel totally humiliated by even the faintest memory of how I treated you at school. I let me father's prejudices influence me, and let my own cowardly ego get hurt by your ability to beat me in every bloody thing. I was a stupid child and a wanker. I stopped actually thinking and feeling that way a long time ago. I merely got tired of _pretending._ "

Granger seemed slightly pacified by his words. He was still touching her forearm and he could feel her muscles relaxing somewhat from when she had tensed.

"What do you mean you were pretending?"

He sighed and stared down at where their skin connected, not willing to remove his hand even though it was slightly awkward.

"That last year…I was surrounded by Death Eaters at home and the children of Death Eaters at school, Granger. It didn't matter what I thought. Only how I acted."

"When did you start to change your mind?" she queried curiously.

"At the end of fifth year," he confessed in a voice so quiet she had to cock her head to the side to hear him, "Sometime during that night."

She shook her head numbly.

"I didn't realise, Malfoy... I thought that night… Well, I thought you'd just gone mad."

"Maybe I had," he said with a slight smirk.

Before Granger could articulate how she felt about that particular revelation, there was a familiar rusty creaking sound as the key turned in the door. A vibration of magic rippled over the room as the wards collapsed, and then the door was opening with a groaning creak. Although Draco didn't move an inch at the sound, Granger hurriedly pulled back from where he was still touching her arm. His hand dropped uselessly as he saw her nervously lick her lips and turn to greet their intruder. Draco personally could have cursed whoever it was if he'd had his wand.

Luckily for them it was Minerva McGonagall. The old head of Gryffindor house was the only one out of this damn Order lot to show him any mercy. She had brought him food once or twice, probably behind their backs. It was only a shame she wasn't in charge instead of that fucking werewolf. He loathed that simpering, smug git. The man hadn't held a candle to Snape in teaching Defence.

"Hermione-" she murmured softly, coming to stand in the room completely and closing the door behind her, "I just thought I'd warn you to wrap things up. Remus and Kingsley said they want to… uh… _limit your exposure to the Death Eater_ I believe was the phrase they used."

Granger groaned and rolled her eyes.

"What do they think is going to happen exactly? He'll break free, and then kill us all with the sharp side of a piece of broken teapot? He doesn't have a bloody wand! And I doubt he means to escape anyway."

Minerva smiled at her former student, looking slightly proud of the younger woman.

"Actually I think that is _exactly_ what they fear. I admit they are being a tad over zealous."

"A tad?" she snorted in disbelief. Draco's lip twitched in the beginnings of a smile, but he tamped down the urge. McGonagall turned her gaze across to him and gave him a shrewd, doubtful look.

"Are you hungry, Mister Malfoy?" she asked sternly but calmly. Draco wasn't sure what was stopping him this time, but he didn't answer, remaining silent. His eyes flickered over to Granger, wondering whether he could get away with only interacting with her. He didn't want to give the impression that he was suddenly open for communication with every bloody person here. He only wanted _her._ McGonagall raised a sceptical eyebrow as Granger turned to look at him with a wry smile.

"Really? Back to silence? I thought the damn had broken now…"

Draco gave her a dark, meaningful look and she shrugged and nodded with a sigh of forced patience. "Fine. Yes, I daresay he _is_ hungry. I'll charm some food up here after lunch."

"So he did actually talk to you, did he?"

Granger snorted mockingly.

"Oh yes. It was getting him to talk sense that was the hard part."

Draco glared at her but she just gave him an innocent grin in return.

"And do you think he poses any danger, Hermione?"

Minerva watched the two of them carefully as the curly haired witch let out a breath and considered him quietly for a moment.

"I don't see any reason to keep him tied up, as long as the room is warded and he has no wand," she explained with a casual confident that warmed him. She was certainly starting to trust him already, regardless of her earlier hesitation.

"You think he is sincere?"

"Not at all. I think he's an arrogant prat, actually. But despite this, I believe he does need our help."

McGonagall chuckled at her joke, and although Draco felt a wry appreciation of her willingness to tease him, outwardly he tried to appear just as icy as she described. The Head of Gryffindor had actually always treated him fairly at school, despite him being a colossal snob, but he still wasn't prepared to let down his guard with anyone these days. He had been hurt too deeply already. Granger was the only extraordinarily unique exception to that rule. She turned to him now and gave him a wry little smile, tinged with a hint of regret.

"I'll come back as soon as I can… or at least as soon as certain people pull their heads out of their arses, anyway."

"Hermione-"

"Right, sorry Profess…er…Minerva."

Draco's lips did twitch then, and he was sure the older woman had noticed. Her eyes darted between her two former students, and he quickly responded by turning his face to stare blankly at the wall, shutting them both out. He hated anyone seeing him vulnerable, but even more he hated anyone intruding on this precious time with Granger. He was supposed to be figuring out his sense of connection to her, not parading his confused feelings around for the rest of the damn wizarding world. He distantly heard Granger sigh, but he steadfastly kept his gaze turned away.

"Well…goodbye for now."

He didn't reply, and she didn't seem to except any because seconds later the door shut firmly and all sound from outside was once again muffled. Draco sighed and closed his eyes. Today had been…revealing. He had known that talking to her would evoke all those strange emotions and thoughts all over again, even though many months had passed. But he was surprised by the intensity of his reaction. It was like hope had sprouted its wings wide and was taking its first flight into the unknown.

….

 **End of another chapter. A seriously large amount of conversation in this one. Dialogue is painful to write. Actually painful. My fingertips hurt. What do you think about his feelings so far? And what exactly happened at the end of their fifth year? Please review, cheers!**


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

 **New chapter. It's difficult to decide how to characterise Draco, and how nice or nasty he should be. Minerva McGonagall is actually one of my favourite book characters. She is a hard-core professor of sass! Enjoy this new offering and, as always, credit to JKR for the inspiration.**

Everyone seemed to be tiptoeing around the whole issue of what to do with Draco Malfoy, as if the problem would just go away on its own. It had been several days now since Hermione and the boys had arrived at Grimmauld Place, and still he was being treated with a great deal of suspicion and fear, understandably so. Finally they had decided to hold some kind of formal meeting to discuss his future. But predictably it had ended up being both pointless and tedious. Far too many Order members wasted time bickering about useless information and more often than not spouting incorrect assumptions about the blond Slytherin boy. Even Harry had become frustrated with the meeting. And he hated Malfoy on a good day. But the way they spoke about him was like they thought he was just a miniature version of his father Lucius.

Hermione knew better.

She was certain that Draco resembled his father in appearance only these days. She hadn't missed his little tell the day before when the mere mention of Lucius came up in their conversation. He hadn't been able to bring himself to refer to the older man as his 'father'. That was revealing. And hearing about how Lucius had punished him… It still made Hermione feel sick to her stomach. She imagined her own kind father, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he swept her up in a warm bear hug or when he told his most unbearable dad jokes. Being somewhat of a model daughter, the worst punishment she had ever received from him was one of those _I'm disappointed in you_ frowns that just broke her heart. She couldn't actually remember any instance where he had raised his voice at all.

It made her realise just how hopeless Malfoy's situation had been growing up. It was no wonder he had arrived to his first year at Hogwarts being generally arrogant and cruel, and bearing a grudge against her specifically. He had been warped and conditioned from infancy to think he was superior in every way to those around him, and was disciplined most severely when he failed at this.

Hermione sighed as she placed a series of plates and cups on a broad tray, preparing Malfoy's dinner. She had figured she might as well eat with him. But she'd convinced herself that this was for practical reasons, not because she worried about him pining away all alone in his room, desperate for companionship.

And she needed to tell him about the outcome of the meeting. Though she wasn't sure herself how exactly it had all unfolded as it did. Hermione had, naturally, spoken up in defence, recounting very vaguely what she had learned in her meetings with him so far. She had left out most details, of course. She merely described his obvious anguish at being a Death Eater, and his desire for protection. She had reassured them that he didn't seem to want to cause any harm and that he appeared genuine.

Of course, all this had been heard and then dismissed quite swiftly by the Order. The overwhelming preconception about the Malfoys and his own role in the murder of Dumbledore had tainted their opinion of him. And she was just the naïve young girl who was gullible enough to buy his bullshit. She smiled fondly as she remembered McGonagall standing up, her green eyes flashing sharply as she confronted the room at large after several comments about her youth and inexperience were voiced.

"You can say what you want about Mister Malfoy, given the boy's history, but I will not tolerate any slight against Hermione. Her judgment is unquestionable."

"Yes but Minerva, surely you must agree she's not the ideal person to interrogate him-"

"That's precisely why you lot won't get anywhere with him. He doesn't need an interrogator. He needs an ally. Someone who'll listen to him. Draco Malfoy is fragile and very untrusting. Hermione is exactly what he needs."

It had been Molly Weasley who had actually turned her nose up most at the idea. Their family had a very poor history with the Malfoys, and she only knew about the son from Ron's rather coloured stories. Her words had almost made Hermione visibly roll her eyes.

"But are you sure he isn't going to try and manipulate her? Try and get her on his side with his charms and his good looks?"

Ron had turned white with embarrassment at her words, and Harry had actually almost laughed. Hermione had just shrugged, glaring as much as she dared at the older Weasley matriarch.

"I hardly think I would be so easily swayed by a handsome face," she had responded tightly.

Of course, a small niggling part of her had begrudgingly admitted that he _was_ very handsome. She was reminded that he did actually have very slick, attractive features. But that alone was not enough to be even slightly relevant to the topic at hand. What mattered to Hermione was making sure that Malfoy was treated fairly. And what mattered to the Order was that he did not put them in any danger, and that they pumped him for as much information as possible.

"You simply will not gain any ground with the boy by being hostile," Minerva had lectured them, finally sick of listening to their squabbling, "I recommend you place him in Hermione's care. She can ensure he continues being honest and helpful, and relay anything important to us."

After a few more grumbled disagreements, the Order had finally agreed. Harry and Ron had even decided they could afford to stay in Grimmauld place for a while longer while they researched the pursuit of their next Horcrux. Of course, the appeal of hearty food and a warm bed was a tantalising hook for them too. And so Hermione had been appointed the role of Malfoy's _handler,_ and she would pass on anything important he shared with her. (Hermione had deliberately not mentioned to them that she would actually respect his privacy and not divulge any personal secrets without his approval like they probably wanted her to).

Which brought her to his door that evening, carrying his dinner on a tray and dismissing the fluttering of her nerves that had taken up residence in her stomach since that afternoon.

The house had fallen quiet once more after everyone had left. Now it was only Remus, Minerva, Harry and Ron there with her. Not bothering to ask anyone's permission, Hermione had taken the time to move her things into the spare room next door to Malfoy earlier that evening. If she was going to do this properly, she may as well be close by just in case. Although sleeping next door to the blond with only a thin wall separating them gave Hermione an inexplicable sensation in her gut, like a dull clenching of anxiety.

Huffing out an impatient breath at her distracted thoughts, Hermione pushed open the door, levitating the tray in before her as she entered his room.

"Granger-"

Malfoy was sitting on the bed when she entered. He leapt to his feet and watched, impressed, as the tray of aromatic food hovered over to place itself on the bedside table. Hermione quickly performed a few spells to enlarge the coffee table and summon a couple of chairs. She gestured to the food and he tentatively moved forwards to sit down, her joining him at the other side.

"What's all this?" he asked with a degree of trepidation. Hermione raised an eyebrow at him.

"Aren't you hungry?"

"Famished. But I can't help worrying…"

"About what?"

Malfoy cocked his head to the side and smiled a bit tightly at her.

"That you've got some kind of terrible news to give me. You're trying too hard to be nice, which is making me instantly suspicious."

Hermione scoffed, cancelling the stasis charms on the food between them that were keeping it hot.

"I'm not a Slytherin like you, you know. We don't all have ulterior motives."

"Not in my experience."

She huffed out a breath and glared at him, but without any real animosity.

"Maybe I'm just a nice person!"

"Maybe," he agreed, his words softened by a slightly wry smile. Hermione gestured at the food insistently and they both tucked in. She could see that he was pleased to eat some real hearty food. But she noticed that he still looked quite drained. She managed to sit and eat quietly with him for a solid five minutes before she felt compelled to ask him some of the questions that had been bothering her since she found out he was here. Swallowing her mouthful of chicken, she was about to speak when Malfoy chimed in first.

"So let me guess… they want you to find out all my deepest darkest secrets and spill the beans to them?"

She stared at him with surprise. He had hit the nail on the head, of course. Hermione blinked and observed him quietly, trying to decide how honest she should be with him. Despite the creamy taste of chicken lingering in her mouth, her tongue suddenly felt dry and uncooperative. But she pushed her plate away and tried to muddle her way through the right words.

"Yes," she admitted softly, "You're not wrong. The Order decided you could be…I think _useful_ is the way they put it."

"What do they want from me?"

"Information on the Death Eaters."

The blond boy also pushed his plate away, mirroring her position. He was looking fairly serious, arms folded across his chest.

"And is that the price I have to pay for their protection?"

She nodded her head slowly, gnawing on her bottom lip.

"Something like that."

He raised one eyebrow at her less than enthusiastic response. He tilted his head to the side and considered her for a moment.

"And what do _you_ think?"

Hermione knew that he would ask her this. She took a deep breath and leaned forwards with her elbows on the table.

"I think it's really up to _you_."

"What do you mean?"

She shrugged her shoulders lightly.

"You never promised us anything. You never said you wanted to join our side or that you wanted to defeat You-Know-Who."

"I do."

Hermione's eyes widened as she looked at him. He had blurted the confession quickly, and now a slight tinge of pink was in his cheeks.

"You do…?"

He visibly swallowed and returned her stare evenly, looking calmer than he probably was.

"I do want to help. The things I saw, the things I was forced to do… I want him gone, Granger," his grey eyes were as hard as steel and his skin had paled considerably. He looked haunted. "I know I said I was just trying to survive, and that was true at first. But… I don't want to live in a world where he takes over. You don't understand what it's like…"

She felt her stomach twist painfully.

"Then explain it to me, Malfoy…"

"I can't."

"You told me some of it the other day," she argued gently.

"Some. But not everything. Not yet."

"Okay," she held her hands up in a placating gesture, sensing that this was an area that he found particularly traumatising. "But I want you to know that you really can talk to me about anything. I'm not…" she sighed in frustration and fiddled with the end of a long curl, "I'm not just going to repeat everything you say verbatim to the Order."

"Isn't that what they expect from you though?"

Hermione shrugged, smiling faintly.

"Perhaps it is. But that would be totally unfair to you. I want you to learn to trust me. I want you to tell me what I can and cannot pass on, and what you want to remain confidential."

An expression of immense relief crossed his face then. He peered up at her from under the few strands of long blond hair that were falling softly across his forehead. His lips twitched into a warm smile that looked so different to his usual smirk.

"I…I appreciate that. And I already know I can trust your discretion. Did you really never tell anyone about that night in fifth year?"

Hermione snorted softly. She shook her head so vigorously that her hair bounced around her shoulders. Seizing the opportunity while he was more at ease, she banished the table to the side of the room and moved to sit cross-legged on the bed. She wanted to appear non-threatening and friendly. Malfoy watched her quizzically before moving to sit in front of her once again in a mirrored position.

"Never," she confirmed, feeling a flutter of nerves at the topic he'd raised, "What would I have said? Not only would no one have believed me, but it felt too…" she paused and considered what word she should use, "Too private. It was nobody's business but ours."

Malfoy nodded in agreement, resting his elbows casually on his knees.

"Thank you. And thank you for agreeing to be my contact or my interrogator, or whatever you are here."

"Your handler," she corrected with a dry smile. Malfoy laughed and then his cheeks flushed as he lowered his head to stare at the mangy quilt beneath them. When he didn't meet her eye for a little while, Hermione realised what had made him so embarrassed and blushed too. Maybe she should not refer to any so-called 'handling' in the future to avoid misunderstandings.

"I hope you weren't expecting someone more important or high-ranking," she commented lightly after an awkward pause. Malfoy chuckled and raised his head again.

"Not at all. You were exactly who I wanted."

Hermione nodded, knowing already that this was the case due to the continuing mystery of the locket they had found in his possession. Rather than bringing up that subject, which was sure to make him defensive, she decided to ask something else that had been nagging at her this week.

"Do you mind if I ask you a… uh… sensitive personal question?"

Malfoy cocked his head to the side with a tense smile.

"Well with an introduction like that, how can it go wrong?"

Hermione grimaced, twisting her hands together. But the blond just gestured for her to continue. So she did after taking a long, steadying breath.

"I wanted to ask about…your parents. Specifically your mother."

She could tell the question hit home when his face drained of all colour. His back immediately straightened and his eyes flashed with pain. It was like his whole body had frozen.

"Malfoy?" she prompted softly, tilting her head to the side. He took a shaky breath and swallowed. But it took a long time for him to be able to actually speak.

"I don't…they…" he exhaled slowly and tried again, "As far as I'm concerned, Lucius can rot in hell. But my mother-"

Hermione nodded in support, urging him to go on. He paused again, but then he blurted it out suddenly in a hoarse whisper.

"She's dead, Granger."

She gasped and raised her hand to her mouth in shock at the revelation. Malfoy's head dropped forwards and he pressed his clenched fist into his forehead.

"I…I didn't… Malfoy, I'm _so_ sorry. I shouldn't have-"

He lifted his head, and she could see that his eyes had become a little glassy.

"It's alright. You didn't know."

Hermione wanted to reach out somehow and comfort the blond boy. She couldn't bear the tortured shimmer in his eyes. But his body was so tense and he was trembling so hard she wasn't prepared to surprise or frighten him more.

"What happened?" she asked in the most soothing tone she could manage, although she felt and heard the slight hitch of emotion in her voice as well. There was a long silence before he actually spoke and answered her question.

"My mother wasn't…she wasn't like the others. Certainly nothing like her sister. I know she could seem cold and aloof in public, but…"

He trailed off briefly, and Hermione remembered that time she had seen the Malfoy matriarch at the Quidditch World cup. She had certainly looked like she was superior to all those around her, barely smiling and appearing as though there was a bad smell under her nose. But Hermione knew better than anyone that appearances could be deceiving. She waited patiently for him to continue.

"But underneath all that, she was such a soft person. I always remember her when I was little as being very frail and too easily dominated by the bigger personalities around her. She was too kind to be the wife of a Death Eater. She was too tender hearted for that life."

"Was she killed?" Hermione asked in horror, but he shook his head in response.

"Not exactly. She stopped eating. She wouldn't speak or even look at anyone. She wouldn't take any potions. I tried-"

He paused and she heard the way his voice broke. This time she did decide to reach out and touch his hand. He flinched a bit at first, but then he turned his grip and grabbed onto her. His hold on her was so firm she almost winced. But it gave him the courage to continue.

"I tried to help, but it was as if she wasn't even there anymore. She was like a ghost. I think in the end all the stresses on her body; not eating or taking care of herself was just too much. Her heart was always weak, and it just couldn't withstand everything."

"Oh Malfoy, that's… _terrible_ … I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

He nodded, not relinquishing her hand from his grip.

"Even though physically I know _she_ was the one who gave up on everything; I still can't help blaming Lucius… I feel like _he_ killed her."

His voice choked up and he hung his head again. Hermione squeezed his hand comfortingly.

"Hey… it's okay-" she mumbled.

"He may not have wielded a wand or a weapon. But his neglect, his callousness and his sycophantic obsession with the Dark Lord… they made her wish that she were dead. Can you even imagine a husband or father who could drive someone to this?"

Hermione realised belatedly that a couple of tears had fallen from her lashes when she felt a droplet land on their joined hands. Malfoy looked up at her again, and the anguish on his face gave way to a softer, affectionate expression.

"Is that why you made your decision to leave?" she asked, her voice coming out as a faint croak. He nodded.

"When she was alive, I had to stay and try to protect her. But once she'd…um… well, there was nothing keeping me there anymore."

Hermione nodded in understanding.

"So you seized the next opportunity?"

"Yes. And now I want to make them pay. The Dark Lord _and_ Lucius."

She wasn't sure what she was supposed to say to him. It was all too much. Hermione sighed and shifted her body so that her back was leaning against the wall of the bedroom. Malfoy followed suit and they sat there silently side-by-side for a long time. She could feel his shoulder resting along hers. Slowly his muscles relaxed and her hand got some relief. Then she heard his breathing slow and regulate itself until they were both matching intakes at a steadier pace. In and out, together.

"Thank you for telling me," she murmured quietly after a while.

"I'd prefer if you didn't… could you just say she died of an illness or something? I don't want all those people knowing she did it to herself."

Hermione responded instantly to the pitiful croak in his voice, giving his hand a quick squeeze.

"Of course."

They both fell silent again and Hermione closed her eyes. She could almost feel his pain washing over her and her heart clenched. They had all been through too much these last few months, and they were still so very young. It had aged them far beyond their meagre years. Without needing to say another word, Hermione and Malfoy sat together on a rickety old bed in a decrepit house, just basking in the comforting presence of another person who should never have been thrust into the middle of this war.

….

….

The next time he saw her, Draco was going a little stir crazy. He actually beamed when she came into his little room, probably giving her a small shock at the warm welcome. But it was strangely wonderful to see the pretty smile that graced her lips in return. Things had gotten quite emotional between them yesterday, and he was half worried that she would have given up, passing the job onto someone else because it was too difficult.

But here she was again, standing in front of him like some kind of fierce angel, discussing all her plans for his room and how she could make his stay more easy and enjoyable, from comfort to entertainment. A part of him wanted to tell her that he just wanted more of her company, but he wasn't sure where that thought came from or what it meant.

"What have you actually been doing in here the last week?" she asked with a wry smile. Draco shrugged and shuffled a bit awkwardly between his feet.

"Well I spent far too long coming up with different shapes from the cracks in the ceiling."

Granger snorted softly. She peered up at the creaky wooden slabs above them.

"Such as?"

He came to stand next to her, pointing up at a particularly jagged web of cracks.

"That one looks like a blast-ended skrewt."

He watched Granger's face as she scrunched her nose up and peered up at the mark he was referring to. She tilted her head from side to side a couple of times.

"Huh… it really does!"

Her eyes flickered over to him and he felt his mouth go a bit dry. This close to her, he could have counted the number of lashes framing her beautiful brown eyes. Draco cleared his throat at the unusual direction of his thoughts and stepped away from her. He shook his head briefly to clear it.

"So..."

Granger seemed oblivious to the direction of his thoughts, as she just smiled and sat on the edge of the bed nearby.

"So… the Order wanted me to ask if you can tell them some more details about Malfoy Manor. Rumour has it that's the Death Eaters' evil lair."

"Evil lair?" he questioned with a sardonic twitch of his brow. Granger just shrugged, so he shook his head wryly and continued, "Well, I suppose that makes sense. What if I have a think about it, and draw up some notes?"

She nodded eagerly, busy concentrating on casting a series of charms around the room and transfiguring the space to be more clean and appealing.

"I reckon if you give it another week, and pass them some useful information like that, they might let us actually leave this room!"

"And go where?" he asked curiously. Granger chuckled.

"Oh _anywhere_ … the hallway, the library, the kitchen, the basement…"

Draco huffed in good humour at her mock cheerfulness. He got the impression from her tight-lipped, ironic smile that she was just as trapped here as he was at the moment. It wasn't like she could just go wandering in London either with all the dangerous witches and wizards chasing madly after the Golden trio.

When her smile turned a little bit mischievous, Draco narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. He followed the direction of her gaze to the bed where she had transfigured the dusty old quilt to be a dark red colour, trimmed with spirals of yellow. Gryffindor colours.

"Don't you dare," he protested, spinning back around to face her with a look of outrage plastered on his face. Granger pretended to blink innocently as she returned his glare with what was supposed to be a wide, artless expression.

"What ever do you mean?" she asked sweetly.

"Change it!"

"Change what?"

Draco's glared sharpened, and she finally relented, her lips stretching into a grin as she chuckled at him.

"The look on your face-" she choked out between laughs, before finally waving her wand to transform it into darker blue and grey tones.

"Much better," he declared a bit petulantly, which only made her laugh more. Draco watched her closely as her mirth died down and she relaxed onto the bed, feeling the cover beneath her with gentle hands. He was curious about her. She seemed much more comfortable and confident here than she ever had at school. Despite always waving her hand around frantically in the air and answering every question verbatim from the textbook, Hermione Granger had actually always lacked self-assurance. He remembered how she used to often second-guess herself and be filled with doubt about her abilities, even though she was far more intelligent and capable than anyone else in their year group by far. Or the school as a whole for that matter.

"You're different," he commented in a low voice after a long silence had fallen between them. He crossed his arms over his chest in slight embarrassment at his own words, but held her gaze steadily. Granger's eyes widened slightly, considering him carefully.

"How?" she asked softly, her lips still curled upwards slightly.

"You're just…well, you seem more certain of yourself than you did at school."

Granger cocked her head to one side questioningly, smile fading from her face completely.

"Really? That seems unlikely, since I feel terrified just about all the time these days."

"Terrified of what?" he asked, knowing that he had swapped their roles from the last couple of days, and now he was the one doing the interrogating. But he was insatiably curious about what she was thinking and feeling. He wanted to know what was going through her head. He suddenly wanted to know everything about her. Granger pondered his question for a while, gnawing on her bottom lip and frowning down at the floorboards.

"I'm scared of failing everyone. Of failing Harry. I'm scared that what I do won't be enough, that _I_ won't be enough to help him. I'm paralysed with fear about what might happen if we don't stop You-Know-Who. I still have nightmares about how they were treating muggleborns at the ministry-"

She trailed off and shot him a guilty look. Before he could comment on what she had said, she rose to her feet hastily and moved further away from him.

"It doesn't matter," she finished quietly, forcing a bright but insincere smile on her face. Draco frowned at the sudden distance she had created between them.

"Are you afraid of _me_?" he asked anxiously, observing her very carefully to see her reaction. She shook her head gently, but was still chewing nervously on her bottom lip.

"No. You've been very cooperative."

Draco wasn't convinced. She still looked a bit uncomfortable, where mere minutes ago she had been laughing and joking. He thought back over her words and realised she had become tense after mentioning the muggleborn situation. "But you think I'm like them? You think that I look down on you for being muggleborn?"

Granger stared at him distrustfully. All smiles were gone now as she gave him the most direct, piercing look yet.

"Well, don't you?"

He blinked and wondered how he could have been so blind. Despite their easy camaraderie this week, and despite the way _he_ had begun thinking about her over the past year, it was clear she still harboured those memories from their younger years as her most poignant examples of his character.

"I think you're the strongest witch I've ever met," he murmured quietly, pouring so much conviction into his voice that he could see her physically reeling from it. She blinked rapidly and her whole face morphed into a look of bewilderment and confusion.

"You treated me like dirt…"

"I was twelve-"

"That's not good enough, Malfoy! I was so new to this world. And you made me feel like I was something disgusting under your shoe. Like I didn't belong."

Draco swallowed. He felt his pulse racing at her accusations, knowing that they were all true and hating himself for it. His gut rolled with nausea.

"Why did you agree to be my contact then? Why have anything to do with me? You could have said no."

"I thought maybe there was something more to you than a spiteful little bully. Please tell me I was right."

Her eyes were open wide and so deep, pleading with him to confirm what she was saying. Draco licked his lips and stepped forwards.

"I _am_ better than that. You made me more than just a bully. That night in the hospital wing, something happened. I felt like I had woken up after being asleep all my life. Like I was no longer drowning in hatred and bitterness."

"I honestly thought you had forgotten-"

"I could never forget it. It transformed me completely."

Granger ran her hands shakily through her hair and looked at him with slightly glassy eyes. She moved closer again and visibly swallowed. Draco copied her movements, until they met a few centimetres apart next to the bed. She took a deep breath.

"Malfoy, I think we should talk about what happened that night. I think it's time."

Draco nodded and huffed out a long breath that was almost a shaky, nervous laugh. Granger smiled sadly at him.

"It's time," he agreed softly.

And standing so close to her now, staring into those big brow eyes that seemed bottomless with compassion, he could recall every detail as though it were yesterday. The smell of potions, the feeling of crisp sheets and the taste of salty tears on his lips. He would never forget it.

….

 **Well you can probably guess what's coming next. Flashback time next chapter! Sorry for the major unfair cliff-hanger. Enjoy and please review! What happened?**


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

 **...**

 **I received many cheerful curses from people hating my recent cliff hanger. As promised, here is the infamous flashback. Onwards! JKR is the master of all who enter this domain.**

There was nothing but a dim haze of pain clouding her senses when she woke for the first time. It took a while to even register where she was and what had happened. A distant corner of her brain screamed at her that she was in danger, but her body was so lethargic, so heavy she couldn't even summon the strength to open her eyes. Her eyelids felt like they were glued shut, too weak to even flutter open to take in her surroundings. The last thing she remembered was the smell of burning flesh and the hoarse screams of someone she couldn't identify nearby, as she watched the purple tinge of a curse ripple through the air towards her. She could still see in her mind the rabid, frenzied eyes of a Death Eater behind the spell, his mask slipping from his face, revealing a yellow-toothed grin and a desire to murder. Hermione felt the fear race up her spin, drawing her further out of sleep. She was going to die. She needed to get up. She needed to protect herself.

Her chest ached. That was the next thing she realized as shifted her body. Her eyes opened stiffly, slowly, only to be greeted by darkness and a pale ceiling high above her. Her throat burned as she gasped. Finally recovering from the shock of waking up suddenly, she grappled for her wand but found only soft cotton. The material was crisp and wrapped tightly around her waist. It didn't make sense. She swallowed convulsively and tried to sit up, whimpering as she felt the searing pain in her chest intensify.

 _Just take deep breaths… calm down…_ she told herself, inhaling deeply and relaxing into the pillow beneath her. That was the third realization. She was in a bed. Under a sheet.

Hermione forced her mind to rationalize the sensations she was experiencing. She liked to catalogue things, like study notes for a research task. It needed to be logical.

 _What do I know?_

It was nighttime. There was no artificial light source in the room. She was swathed in white cotton, the kind of crisp material that rubs your skin. The confused aroma of a multitude of potions hung in the air. The foremost scents were asphodel and thyme. She was not wearing her normal clothes, at least not the ones she remembered. And there was silence.

 _Well… not complete silence._

Very faintly she could hear a slight sniffling, as if someone was breathing too hard or trying not to cry.

Hermione dismissed this last one, since it was so far removed from the sounds of battle she had been expecting. They were being chased by Death Eaters in the ministry last she remembered. The explosions of rubble and shouted spells had reverberated around the walls of the labyrinthine corridors. Not this grim, mournful peace.

Her mind arranged these feelings into some kind of rational order, and she let out a long, calming breath. She was in the hospital wing at Hogwarts.

Her racing heart slowed considerably, though there were still some troublesome questions nagging at her consciousness. Did everyone make it out alive? How did she end up back here? Finally she managed to crawl up the bed and drag herself to sit in an upright position, though she was still slightly slumped against the headboard. When she looked to her right she noticed a bed in the distance with the distinctive tuft of orange that could only be Ron Weasley's hair poking out from behind a curtain. A sigh of relief.

They must have been rescued by the Order. That was the only way she could still be here now and not dead somewhere in the bowels of the ministry of magic. Hermione glanced down at her hands, exposed by a sliver of moonlight, to see that they were trembling. She had always known that the darkness was out there somewhere. Listening to Harry talk about it had filled her with dread. But now she had seen it first hand. She had felt the vibrations of many spells racing through the air, scorching her skin. People she had never even met had tried to kill her.

Hermione closed her eyes, even though it was already very dark in the hospital wing. As she focused on controlling her breathing again, she became more and more aware of the other sound in the room, echoing softly around the vaulted stone ceiling. Hermione tilted her head to the side and concentrated. It was a weak sniffling coming from the corner of the room where a lone bed sat pressed against the wall. She opened her eyes and peered over there, but it was dark and the bed was shrouded by a stiff hospital curtain. Hermione spun her legs around and placed her feet on the floor. She shivered; it was icy. The pitiful sounds coming from the corner continued. Whoever it was seemed to be breathing very heavily in the peaceful hush of the night.

Slowly, shifting gingerly onto her feet, Hermione shuffled towards the sound. Her legs were aching and weak. But with every step she seemed to regain some strength, even though her chest was burning. She tentatively touched her fingertips, first to her grandmother's locket that thankfully still dangled gently over her skin, and then to the bandage that stretched up the centre of her ribcage. When she made contact with the coarse bandage, however, she flinched and pulled her hand away. It was agony. Whatever purple flamed spell had rushed towards her must have been very dangerous. Eventually she arrived at the corner bed. She reached out to gently brush aside the edge of the curtain and peeked in.

No one was there. The bed was empty.

Hermione sidled in through the curtain, following the sound of heavy, choked breathing. She leaned around the bed and found the figure making the noise. A gasp escaped her mouth and she pressed her hand to her lips. He mustn't have heard her because she was able to observe him for a long moment, standing there frozen in complete shock.

It was Draco Malfoy, but as she'd never seen him before. His distinctive blond head was lowered, forehead resting on his knees which were tucked up against his chest. He was slumped on the floor, hunched over in an upright foetal position. And he was crying.

The last time she had seen him, he'd been wearing a petty sneer on his face, and his inquisitorial squad badge had been gleaming menacingly from where it was pinned to his chest.

But now he seemed wretched and clearly distraught. Hermione's curiosity was instantly roused as she studied him, her own pain receding as her focus was drawn away from it and onto the boy in front of her. Anything was a welcome distraction from that searing pain. And there was some emotion welling up inside her that she couldn't quite pinpoint. Maybe it was pity or compassion. Maybe it was just wonderment at the oddity of Malfoy looking so broken and not his usual haughty self. And why he was on the floor and not in bed was uncertain.

Feeling guilty for watching him sobbing without his knowledge, Hermione stepped inside the curtain, leaving a slight gap in case she needed to escape quickly.

"Malfoy?" she whispered, surprised by how croaky her voice sounded in the eerie stillness of the night. The blond head jerked upwards and she found herself staring into two frantic, steely grey eyes. They widened in horror and he wiped furiously at his glistening cheeks as he glared at her.

"Piss off, Granger-"

His voice sounded thick and unwell. In fact, his whole face was slightly clammy and even more pallid than usual.

"Are you alright? Do you need me to fetch Madam Pomfrey…?"

She figured she had better ask. If he died in the night, wanker or not, she'd never forgive herself. She wasn't even sure why he was in the hospital or what was wrong with him in the first place. Maybe it was serious.

"I said piss off!" he spat, cringing away from her and looking repulsed. It didn't really carry much weight this time, though. Hermione brushed away the feeling that she was going down a very foolish path, and stayed rooted to the spot.

"Not until I know you're okay. Should I get help? Are you in any pain?"

Malfoy shook his head and turned his face towards the wall.

"Just leave me alone," he muttered, and this time there was no malice in his voice. He just sounded tired and overwhelmed. Hermione contemplated the gap in the curtain that would lead her back to bed and to sleep, which she desperately needed. She almost stepped back through it, her feet shuffling on the stone floor towards it, before her jaw tensed with determination. With a decisive tug of her hand, the curtain was pulled shut with her still inside. She edged closer to the huddled form concealed behind the bed. Her knees were shaking.

 _What in Merlin's name am I doing?_ She thought vaguely as she lowered herself to sit on the bed, unable to support her own weight anymore. But her teeth were still gritted stubbornly and she knew there was no going back. She had never seen this look on his face before. And she had to know what it meant. His normally cool, arrogant façade was cracking.

"What's wrong?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed in contempt. He wiped some snot from underneath his nose and clambered inelegantly to his feet. He pushed himself off the wall and stalked the two steps towards her until he was looming over her.

"Mind your own business, you nosy little mudblood."

Hermione blinked but otherwise showed no sign that his words affected her. They didn't really, not anymore. Hardened, cruel wizards had tried to kill her a few hours ago. Suddenly Malfoy's petty little insults seemed harmless in comparison. He was just a boy pretending to be like his father, she realised.

"Why are you in here?" she asked cautiously in response to his threatening growl. His cheeks were splotchy and pink from crying, and his eyes were bloodshot, narrowed in anger. But he answered her.

"You pathetic friends tricked us with that stupid toffee. I got a nose bleed…"

Hermione cocked an eyebrow in surprise, looking him up and down. She remembered Ron telling them about using the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes products against the gang of Slytherins holding them in Umbridge's office while she and Harry had traipsed into the forbidden forest. It didn't normally affect students that badly though.

"And so you came to the hospital wing…?" her tone was dubious, which just made his jaw twitch erratically and his hands clench into fists.

"I'm allergic to fluxweed."

Her eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and sympathy. Magical allergies were always terrible, and unknowingly ingesting one as an ingredient in the Weasley twins' experimental lollies must have been a shock. He would have most likely experienced a critical fever for many hours, perhaps ever muscle spasms and cramps.

"Oh!" she gasped, biting her lip as she pictured him writhing around on the bed. Even though she couldn't stand him, she still would not wish that kind of pain on anyone. She herself was allergic to aconite. But he didn't seem in any physical pain now, "Are you alright?"

It was the second time she'd asked the question, and his reaction was just as furious this time.

"No I'm not alright," he hissed, looming over her and trying to appear intimidating, "My nose wouldn't stop bleeding for hours and my skin was on fire…" he trailed off as if he suddenly realised who he was talking to. He snapped his mouth shut and glowered at her.

"I know what you mean," she commented quickly, shrugging her shoulders in a casual gesture, "I'm allergic to aconite. It's awful…" she visibly shuddered, remembering a couple of days she had spent in the hospital wing after an ill-fated potions lesson several years before. Malfoy's body twitched a bit as he stared at her in disbelief and impotent rage.

"Thanks for sharing. I wish I had some aconite right now; I'd shove it down your throat. Now fuck off."

Hermione almost chuckled in the face of his anger. He was practically trembling. She wasn't much better off. Instead of moving, she wriggled forwards to sit on the edge of the bed, showing him that she wasn't intimidated by him. Even though she had no idea where her wand was. She tilted her head to one side.

"That still doesn't explain why you were crying," she commented.

Her words caused Malfoy to snap. She could see the rage kindling in his eyes flare up into a fire and he practically bared his teeth at her in a predatory growl.

"Shut your fucking mouth-"

Malfoy went to grab her shoulders, probably to forcefully push her away and out from his little sanctuary. But the moment he placed the pressure of his hands on her, Hermione's chest jarred in agony again. She sucked in a deep, hissing breath and tensed her whole body as one hand shot up to cradle against the wound that lay there beneath her bandages and the thin cotton of the pyjama top Madam Pomfrey must have dressed her in. Her breathing came out in ragged gasps as she whimpered and tried to block out the throbbing pain that was now radiating up the entire length of her skin.

Distantly she was aware that Malfoy's eyes had widened in horror as he glanced down at the bandage, which now had a reddish tinge to it. He released her shoulders immediately as if they had burned him and took a slight step back. As she blinked and controlled her breathing once more, she glanced up at him and saw him visibly swallow. His eyes were fixed on the stained cloth on her chest, poking out the top of her pyjama shirt.

"So it's true then…?" he murmured to himself and, to her astonishment, his face crumpled into a look of despair. Despite her own aching, trembling body, she focused on his expression, welcoming the distraction.

"What is?"

His lower lip was quivering as his eyes rose to meet hers. He looked a bit deranged to be honest. He pointed a shaky finger at her ribcage.

"You lot fought the Death Eaters at the ministry?"

She certainly wasn't expecting him to know that. She had barely had time to absorb the experience herself, let alone be questioned about it. Her ears were still echoing with the sounds of battle; exploding rubble, panicked shouting, vibrations of magic humming in the air.

"Yes, we did," she replied in a soft, tremulous voice.

"And they saw him? The minister and the aurors saw _him_ there? He actually fought openly?"

She knew from the catch in his voice that he was referring to Voldemort, and she shivered too.

"I think so."

Malfoy's face crumpled even further at her acknowledgement.

"How did you know?" she asked curiously.

He sighed, running his hands through his blond hair until it was so dishevelled it would have been unrecognisable if it weren't for the unique, pale colour.

"I heard Professor Dumbledore talking to Cornelius Fudge about it," he admitted in a low, terse voice, "They were in the hospital wing earlier. They didn't know I was here or that I was awake."

The Slytherin boy seemed to have forgotten that she was even there when he collapsed back against the wall, covering his face with his hands and bending over to breathe more deeply. She stared at him in bewilderment, watching carefully as he seemed to grapple with his emotions. She had never seen even a tenth of this raw feeling before in his whole being. But now it seemed so visceral that he couldn't even contain it in front of someone he supposedly hated.

"Malfoy…"

She was going to ask him some more questions, but he interrupted with his own first, lifting his head from where it had been dangling and peering up at her from his slouched position on the wall.

"My father was there wasn't he?" He asked with a degree of trepidation. Hermione tried to hide her surprise at the question. She just took a deep breath and nodded.

"He was."

She could clearly recall the sight of Lucius Malfoy's eyes glinting at them in the darkness of the hall of prophecies. His debonair but menacing voice taunted them and bargained with them to hand over the glass sphere clutched in Harry's sweaty hand. Her thoughts were interrupted by a violent _crack._ She gasped when she realised Malfoy had turned and punched the wall behind him. Now he was leaning his forehead against it as if to cool his raging fever.

"He tried to kill you?"

"Yes. But Malfoy…"

She stood from the bed and took a step closer towards him. He looked like he was going to cry again. His eyes were red rimmed and his face was screwed up in misery. She stood close behind him and spoke in a gentle, curious tone.

"Didn't you already know that You-Know-Who was back? Everything Harry's been saying this year, and your father surely would have-"

Malfoy nodded brusquely and she trailed off. He seemed to have completely forgotten the fact that he was talking to the most infamous muggleborn in the school and his personal nemesis. It was all just spilling out seemingly against his will.

"Yes I knew. Father's been talking about him. I knew he was back. And I knew father was loyal to him. But this is different."

"Why? I thought you'd be…well… _glad_."

He stayed silent for a long time. His shoulders shook a bit but she couldn't see his face. Then finally he shook his head numbly at her. His pupils were blown wide and were almost ghostly.

"It was alright when he was hiding and the ministry were too stupid to act! I could just smirk and simper and pretend. But now? I'm terrified of him. Of everything he wants. Of my father too."

Hermione's eyelashes fluttered as she took in his words with shock and confusion. This was the last thing she expected from the arrogant bully in front of her. He had always seemed so bloody sure of himself.

"I had no idea," she confessed in a whisper. Malfoy choked out a sob and leaned his back against the wall, dropping to a crouch beneath her. Hermione lowered herself until she was kneeling before him at his new height.

"Father was arrested. That's what Fudge said. He was telling Dumbledore about all the Death Eaters they got into custody. Right?"

"I wouldn't know, I was unconscious. Someone cursed me…"

She touched her fingers gingerly to her wound and gnawed on her bottom lip. Malfoy's eyes flickered down to it and he cringed.

"It wasn't Lucius was it?"

"No," she responded slowly, shaking her head and wondering why the idea bothered him so much, "But I'm sure he would have tried if he'd had the opportunity."

Malfoy shuddered again and gripped his hair tighter between his fingers until his knuckles turned white. She frowned as she watched him become increasingly distressed.

"Why does that bother you so much? The idea of your father trying to kill me. You hate me."

"I don't know why it bothers me. It just does!" he gasped, refusing to return her questioning stare. She let out a deep breath and lowered herself to sit down on the floor next to him, leaning side-by-side against the wall. They sat quietly for a very long time. The gentle pattering sound coming from outside told her it had started raining. She looked up to see a few droplets, highlighted like pinpricks of silver by the moon, running indolently down the glass of the window above them. She closed her eyes for a few moments before turning her head to watch the boy beside her. It was another minute before Hermione decided she could press him further.

"Draco…" she murmured, and noticed when he winced at her use of his first name, "I'm tired and sore and I still don't even know if all my friends are okay. And I'm afraid too. Please…just tell me what's really upsetting you?"

Malfoy shook his head at first, but his eyes were shining with tears that he seemed too stubborn to allow to fall. He was blinking rapidly and he dropped his head back to lean on the wall.

"You wouldn't understand. You're just a…a…"

Hermione pursed her lips and stared directly at him in a challenge.

"Go on. Say it. You said it before."

Malfoy was silent. She thought maybe he would refuse to talk to her anymore, but then he suddenly turned his gaze towards her, and she saw that his cheeks were starting to look damp with tears he had tried to hide.

"I don't want to be a Death Eater."

"Why not? You seem to share a lot of opinions with You Know Who. Especially about people like me."

Her words were confrontational but she tried to keep her tone soft and encouraging. Draco shook his head numbly.

"I don't want to kill anyone!"

"Not even dirty mudbloods?"

His gaze seemed to drop to her chest again where she knew her bandage was stained a little bit crimson from blood seeping from the wound. She should probably be in bed.

"It's just blood, Draco. Red, sticky stuff running through our veins. Carrying oxygen. Sometimes clotting or congealing or spilling out when we're injured. We need it to live. Both of us. It's just the same as yours."

She brushed her pyjama top aside very minutely so that he could see the pink flush of her skin, her chest rising and falling and the stained gauze between her breasts. She saw him swallow convulsively.

"Show me," he begged in a hoarse whisper, his eyes still fixed on her chest. She squirmed a bit underneath his gaze. She hadn't even seen the extent of the damage yet herself, and especially considering the location of the wound it was still very private. But the fact that he was even having this conversation with her and asking her for this favour spoke volumes. If she could place even the smallest speck of doubt in his mind it would be worth it. Slowly, Hermione started to peel off the bandage. It stung like a knife through her chest, but she persisted through the pain. She didn't even realise she was hissing in breath through a stiff, tensed jaw until Draco rested his hand shakily over the top of hers. He helped tug on the corner of the bandage until the gash beneath was completely exposed to the cold air.

Hermione didn't want to look at it. She swallowed the lump in her throat and stared fixedly at the wall. But she felt Draco's gaze on her scarred skin, she heard his breath hitch at the sight of the ugly cut that she remembered slicing through her in a rush of purple. And, after a long pause, he touched her. His fingertips brushed over the skin so softly that she thought at first she was imagining it. But the slight throb of pain was definitely real, as were the goosebumps that spread up her arms and down her stomach. Then his fingers trailed up over her collarbone and down to fiddle with the locket of her grandmother's necklace. He seemed transfixed by the gentle glow of sapphire. He took a deep breath, not releasing the gold chain from his touch.

"I don't want to hurt _anyone,_ Granger."

His voice was weak and she felt his breath release in small puffs on her neck and collarbone. She shifted to face him again, but he was still staring at the raised purplish scar on her chest and frowning darkly.

"Who says you have to? You're only sixteen, aren't you? Why would You-Know-Who want someone so young? You can't even do magic outside school yet!"

Draco shook his head sadly. He finally raised his eyes again to look at her, and she realised that he was crying. Fat droplets were running messily down his cheeks, but he made no effort to wipe them away.

"You don't understand," he spat, his voice cracking on a sob, "My father failed tonight. The Dark Lord will want to use me to punish him."

Hermione looked intently at him for a long time. Brown eyes locked with steely grey as they contemplated each other. But Draco's gaze was blurred by tears. She chewed on her bottom lip until it was red.

"Is there anything I can do?" she finally asked in a voice so quiet it was only barely audible. Draco blinked and then his face seemed to scrunch up in anguish for a split second before he abruptly turned to stare at the wall. She heard his pained gasp and she saw his shoulders start to shake. It was instinct that made her reach out. If someone had told her a year ago that this would happen, she would have scoffed and said the only thing that could possibly convince her to touch Draco Malfoy in any way would be to give him another punch in the face. But now she felt like her heart had been wrenched out of her chest and she was drawn to offer something, some small comfort to ease his distress. After all, no matter what his reasons were or how selfless his intent, the prince of Slytherin had just confessed that he _didn't_ want to be a Death Eater. Maybe it was shock causing her to act this way. But the next thing she knew she had laid a hand on his shoulder. He leaned towards it. She ran her thumb over his cotton shirt, feeling the trembling skin prickle beneath.

With another heaving groan, Draco bent his body towards her and they both froze, inches apart. They were at a crossroads, both unsure whether or not to proceed. When she tilted her head she could feel his breath tickling her cheek. They stayed motionless like this until eventually Hermione lifted her fingers to brush the hair off his forehead. It seemed to tip him over his breaking point. With another sob he slumped against her and cried, resting his head into the curve of her collarbone. Hermione shuddered for a moment in stunned disbelief that he had actually caved and succumbed to his grief. Then she jolted into action. She lifted a hand and stroked her fingers through his hair, wrapping her other arm around his shoulders. Draco burrowed deeper into the crook of her neck. Then she became aware of the soft words he was muttering against her skin.

"Not like him. Don't want to be a murderer like him…so terrified."

Hermione made soothing noises into his ear as they rocked back and forth. They sat there for what seemed like hours, until the cold of the stone floor seeped through her cotton hospital pyjamas and made her shiver. For a long time the only sound that could be heard in the small, enclosed space was the occasional whimper or moan underneath his mumbled words. Or the howling of the wind outside as rain battered against the castle. But when Draco twitched against her after a particularly violent sob, Hermione actually cried out loudly into the quiet of the night, echoing around the high ceiling. Draco jerked backwards. He stared at her red, raw wound in horror.

"I'm sorry," he gasped as she curled in on herself. Hermione felt her body shake in agitation. Her chest burned. She took a few deep breaths.

"I didn't mean to…Granger-"

Draco's voice was thick and his cheeks saturated with tears not yet dried. He looked at her with abject misery. In the face of his obvious regret, Hermione waved her hand in dismissal, feeling the pain recede somewhat.

"It's alright. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. It just took me by surprise."

Draco nodded with an expression of relief. The wind groaned against the castle walls as they both caught their breath. He was staring at her so intensely that she felt her skin prickle and heat into a pink flush. She watched in confusion as Draco licked his lips nervously and continued to pierce her with his gaze. Without any warning or sign of his intention, suddenly the blond boy lurched forwards, closing the gap between them. He pressed his lips to hers in a surprisingly soft kiss, pulling her bottom lip slowly between both of his.

Hermione seemed to suddenly become incapable of breathing. Her mind shuttered and froze in a state of absolute panic.

 _Fuck, he's kissing me… Draco Malfoy is kissing me…_

She couldn't even move her lips to respond she was so taken aback by the sensation of his lips caressing hers. It was…nice, she realised. He tasted of spearmint mixed with the slight salty tang of his tears. Nothing like Krum's sloppy, too-fierce kisses. Draco's skin was smooth and musky. Hermione's eyes drifted shut against her will. And for a moment, just a brief, stupid moment, she kissed him back.

Draco panted out a few shallow breaths in quick succession before he increased the pressure of his lips. They danced together, chasing each other back and forth with sweet, unhurried kisses. His lips were cool and felt amazing against hers. Eventually she felt his fingers winding through her hair and drawing her closer, but he was careful of the raw gash on her chest., pausing only to fiddle again with the chain of her locket.

He kissed her like there was nothing else in the world outside the two of them together in this moment. Passionate and almost adoring. If her mind had dared to imagine such an absurd scenario before, she would have thought he would be demanding and hard. But everything about this kiss was tender, as if he was worshipping her lips with his.

When they pulled apart to breathe, Hermione allowed her eyelashes to flutter open again. She peered blearily up at the cool, handsome face of Draco Malfoy and her heart clenched in sudden terror. She was afraid of the rush of feeling that was running through her. As her skin crawled from all the overwhelming thoughts battling in her head, Hermione jolted back slightly and shook her head.

"Please…we can't-"

Draco's eyes, which had been hazy with contentment, suddenly sharpened as he stared at her, partly in desire and partly in horror.

"Oh _shit_ …" he whispered. Their expressions mirrored each other perfectly. Confusion, dismay, fear…

"I don't… I'm not…" her voice was quivering as she tried to speak, but had no idea what to say. Draco seemed to be in exactly the same boat as her. But it seemed he had the perfect solution. His features suddenly darkened into a scowl and he leaned in closer, but not to kiss her this time.

"This never happened," he growled.

And before she could respond, he was scrambling awkwardly to his feet and grabbing his wand from the bedside table. Then, with one last look of dread, he was stumbling out from the curtains and practically sprinting from the hospital wing.

Hermione sat there on the floor for a long, heart-breaking moment, wondering what the bloody hell had happened. And how they were supposed to recover from this.

 **...**

 **Well there you go. That's the memory. But still more questions to be answered in the next chapter. What do you think of their past encounter? Sad? Happy?**


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

 **I'm glad you liked the flashback! More answers forthcoming. More dramione development. More everything. Enjoy! As always JKR is the master of all things.**

 **…** **.**

They had both taken a seat on the bed, during which an award pause seemed to stretch out for far too long. Draco knew that they were both remembering that brief, unexpected moment between them in the hospital wing. He watched Granger gnaw anxiously on her bottom lip, a crease appearing in her forehead as she contemplated the wall next to them, struggling to meet his eye. He wondered what she thought of that whole night. Her expression gave away nothing except for her nervousness at talking about it.

Draco himself was trapped between feeling relieved that they would finally discuss it after months of bottling it all up, and mortification at the memory of his behaviour that night. He had certainly not painted himself in the best light. A snivelling, sobbing mess was not exactly the image he wanted to portray here. But it wasn't like he could change it, and the emotions that night had been raw and real.

Draco could perfectly recall the weight of his dread after the incident at the ministry. He had felt sickness in his gut at the thought of what might happen. For years he had spouted his beliefs blindly, replicating his father because he wanted to be just like him. But he felt hollow inside. When confronted with the looming prospect of being fully enveloped into the world of Lord Voldemort and his followers, his hubris had cracked and fallen to pieces. He was scared. In his heart he knew that world was not appealing to him. He knew he simply couldn't do the things his father did. And why did he have to be like Lucius anyway? The older he got the more he came to appreciate the flaws in his father's dogmatic, superior attitude. And then he had suddenly seen the weakness in himself. When faced with such a horrific situation, he discovered that there was not one single person at school who he could genuinely call a friend. Who could he go to and share his deepest fears? They were superficial cronies and fellow schemers. Not friends.

He supposed that was why he had broken down and talked to Granger. She wasn't his friend, but there was something open and candid about her. He barely knew her really, but strangely he actually trusted her. She wasn't pretending to be anything other than who she was.

It had all been moot though, as he had been embroiled in Voldemort's plans against his will anyway, to teach his father a lesson supposedly. All he could do was plaster that fake sneer on his face that he had perfected years before and try to survive. Maybe he would be free one day, but not yet, he thought.

Draco observed the curly haired girl in front of him calmly. Where she was concerned, that night had been a revelation. He could still clearly remember little details about her that should have long since faded. Like the subtle smell of her skin pressed against his as she embraced him. Or the feel of the angry red puckering of her scar beneath his fingertips.

But most of all her soft, sweet lips tenderly pressed against his.

 _Is there anything I can do?_

She had asked that in a voice that trickled over him as a mere husky whisper, stripping away all his usual defences. Her kindness had worn him down and her pity had inflamed his feeling of doubt until it burned. That night had changed things for him, he had admitted that to her himself. He had gone from being completely lost to feeling quietly determined about the months stretching before him. Before then he had been consumed by his fear. Madness threatened to break down the cage-like walls of his mind and send him into a tailspin. But the thought of Hermione Granger of all people accepting his kiss, kissing him back, offering her caring words of support, it was like a balm to him. He had decided then and there that he would endure whatever torment Voldemort had in store for him. He would face it head on and he would wait patiently for his opportunity.

But in the back of his mind Draco worried that he had relied too heavily on those memories of her to cope, and that they had warped into an obsession. Not a day had gone by since that interaction in the hospital wing when he hadn't thought about Hermione. It had become his lifeline; his one connection to sanity and the possibility of receiving affection. Nobody had ever held him like she had that night, or touched him with such gentleness.

He had returned in sixth year branded with the dark mark and entrusted with a task that he dreaded. But still he treasured that memory and held it close every day. He had studied her that year. His attention had been drawn inexorably to her and to the simple humanity she represented. He watched her answer questions in class with enthusiasm and precision. He saw the way she flushed with pleasure when awarded any compliment from a teacher. It ate away at him when her eyes were downcast and she sat alone in the Great Wall, separated from her friends by petty squabbles. She spent a lot more time in the library than ever before. Those were the most trying times. Wanting to go over to her but knowing that he couldn't. He even once spent hours staring down at her from a window on the seventh floor as she helped Professor Sprout and Neville Longbottom plant some new shrivelfigs in a patch of soil one windy Saturday afternoon. It amazed him how she could carry on helping others and keeping her chin up while the world darkened around her.

Hermione folded one leg under the other as she shifted on the bed in his little room at Grimmauld place. He noticed that she was finally looking up at him with a hint of stubbornness in her eyes. Draco pursed his lips and took a deep breath, returning her gaze as evenly as he could without being too deeply drawn into her impossibly dark brown eyes.

"That night…" she began in an unsteady voice. She paused as if unable to articulate what she wanted to know. He waited patiently as she struggled to form the words, "You already knew then that you didn't want to be a Death Eater."

It surprisingly wasn't even a question, just a statement. It wasn't what he was expecting either, not since other, more bizarre things had taken place that night too.

"I already knew, yes."

She frowned at him, tilting her head at an angle.

"Then why didn't you ask for help? Why not confess what was happening to Dumbledore? He could have helped you."

Draco shook his head, feeling strangely at ease with the question.

"No, by then I'd already been chosen. The moment Lucius failed at the ministry I was marked by the Dark Lord to be used to punish him. And my mother was trapped under the watchful eye of her sister Bellatrix. I couldn't leave her to face them alone."

Hermione nodded slowly, accepting his logic even though it did not soften the frown on her lips. She considered him closely.

"So why did you tell _me_? What made you confide in me that night?"

Draco grimaced.

"To be honest at first I'm not sure I even meant to. It just kind of spilled out…" Hermione snorted with a shake of her head, making her pretty curls bounce. Draco shrugged, smirked ruefully and continued, "Then when it dawned on me who I was talking to…I dunno…I guess I was actually glad it was _you_. I don't think there was another living soul in that castle or anywhere else who I could have been so open with."

"Really?" the crease on Granger's forehead deepened. Her eyelashes fluttered once or twice as she blinked in confusion.

"I don't have any friends, not really" he said a bit blithely, trying to sound too casual and probably failing, "The teachers all hated me, my parents were off limits since one is a zealous bigot and the other was too unstable at the time. And you were the only one of that sodding annoying Gryffindor bunch who would actually be compassionate enough to give a damn about the feelings of a past bully and future Death Eater."

Hermione's eyes held a great deal of pity, but he also noticed the slight blush that blossomed across her cheeks at his compliment.

"I'm sure there must have been others who would have been kind to you."

"Don't kid yourself," he retorted dryly, "They didn't hold a candle to you. You were so predictably…well… _good_."

"Good?" she questioned with a raised eyebrow and the barest twitch of an embarrassed smile. Draco returned the smile and nodded.

"Yeh. You know… moral and kind and all that bleeding heart bullshit."

She considered him closely for about a heartbeat before smirking.

"It's strange because your _words_ suggest that you're attempting to pay a compliment but your _tone_ is filled with so much contempt!"

"You're a Gryffindor," he commented with a wry quirk of his eyebrow, "It's not my fault I find it difficult to praise you."

Hermione scoffed and shook her head indulgently. She dropped her eyes to the quilt beneath them and he watched her finger trace a few patterns nervously around the stitching.

"So…um…why did you…kiss me?"

Draco swallowed. He knew this question was coming eventually. He was surprised she hadn't asked it sooner. But he had mentally braced himself for it ever since he had seized his chance to surrender to the Order. Maybe even before that. She was still not looking at him. Her fingers plucked at a loose thread in the quilt.

"Because I wanted to."

He knew his answer would probably not be enough for her, but it was all he had been able to work out himself. He honestly didn't know what force had compelled him to press his lips to hers that night. He had been drowning in her scent and the softness of her skin and it had completely overwhelmed him. All he had known in that moment was that her lips looked so lovely and pink and he was desperate to feel them against his. Other than that he couldn't explain why.

But he was younger back then and more easily fooled by weak words of self-denial and years of pretending. Now, staring at her on this rickety narrow bed and seeing the way her skin darkened ever so slightly with a pretty blush, the thought drifted across his mind that he wanted to kiss her again. It wasn't the first time he'd thought this. Or even the tenth. Or the hundredth. He had lain awake too many nights, blocking out thoughts of Death Eaters and vanishing cabinets by imagining those perfect lips kissing him and caressing him in places that made him too embarrassed to admit to himself later.

But now that he was _here_ , now that he was temporarily free from the darkness that had shrouded him for too long, he could actually open himself up to it. He could relish the thought without pushing it away. And her lips looked so damn inviting.

"And afterwards?" she asked in a slightly croakier voice, raising her eyes to his at last.

"I was scared."

"So was I," she confessed in a whisper. He shivered slightly at her hoarse tone and realised he had also started picking at the quilt beneath them in his uneasiness.

"I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable or frightened in any way… that was not my intention."

Although his words were apologetic, he knew deep down he certainly didn't regret the kiss. It had been too important for him; a torch he had left burning through all the fucked up times that followed. But maybe he could have been slightly less intimidating about the whole thing, especially given his callous parting words when he left her that night.

"It's alright, you didn't. I was just… surprised."

"So was I," he said, repeating her agreement with a wry smile.

Hermione sighed almost inaudibly and shifted on the bed to pull herself a few centimetres closer to him. He clenched his jaw as her knee brushed against his, trying to ignore the tingling that ran up his leg in response.

"Malf…uh…Draco-" she began, stammering out his first name in a fit of sudden boldness, "I need you to tell me about that locket. It was once my grandmothers and it means a lot to me. But I lost it at the end of sixth year and now you show up wearing it months, almost years later... you owe me an explanation."

Draco let her say her piece. He knew he was going to have to tell her eventually and now seemed like as good a time as any, considering they had both been so honest with each other. He thought back to that other fateful night, months later, when things had spun out of control. When he had been seized by a desperate impulse. He took a deep breath and began to recount it for her.

 _…_ _._

 _Draco skidded to a halt as he turned a corner, resting his back against the solid dungeon wall and gasping in breaths of cool air. He had sprinted down here as fast as he could and his lungs burned with the effort._

 _It was done._

 _It would all be over soon. And there was no going back._

 _The Death Eaters were inside Hogwarts castle. Thanks to him. He had finally fixed that damn vanishing cabinet and succeeded in his task. His mother would be safe._

 _Fuck, where was Snape?_

 _The greasy bastard was his only hope now. He knew the promises his godfather had made. He knew how he wanted this to go down. But for the first time all bloody year he was nowhere to be found. Draco had raced down here as soon as the other Death Eaters' backs were turned and a fight with the aurors had distracted them. He needed Snape. Dumbledore would be returning to the castle any minute now and they needed to be ready._

 _A sudden jumble of voices echoed down the corridor and he jolted into action once more. The tiny squeak of the Charms professor was the first tone that he actually recognised, coming from a room just off Snape's potions storeroom. He raced towards it._

 _Draco paused again as he neared the group of people. It was unmistakeably the tiny Professor Flitwick, panting and out of breath but still shouting something at the slick haired Potions Master in front of him. Behind them, peering curiously around the door and watching the scene unfold were two students. Draco almost groaned out loud as he recognised the back of one curly head instantly. Hermione Granger. The other girl, judging by her flowing blonde hair must be Luna Lovegood._

 _Why now? Why here? Draco thought with a barely audible, panicked whine. He didn't want Granger anywhere near this fight. And here she was right in the thick of things, following Snape around like a guard dog probably. A feeling of urgency rose within him like a viper, firm and protective. He knew what he had to do. Too many months he had spent watching her, needing her presence like oxygen just to survive each day. If she was hurt now he wasn't sure he could continue. A flash of soft lips and the smell of apples and honey roused his senses, remembering their kiss in the hospital wing almost one year ago. He had to act._

 _While the other three had their backs turned, he saw Snape's obsidian eyes flicker up to spot him. His glare was intense and questioning. Draco nodded sharply in confirmation of what they were both thinking._

 _"_ _Quickly Severus! There's not a moment to lose, they're approaching the Astronomy tower as we speak – a whole horde of them in robes and masks!" Flitwick urged, gesturing wildly out the door. He was practically dancing around on the balls of his feet. But not for much longer._

 _With a quick nod of acknowledgement to synchronise their actions, Draco and Snape both flicked their wands briskly, stunning all three occupants of the hallway. They each fell to the ground in a boneless heap. A stiff pause followed as Snape's face whitened and he seemed to rally his courage for what was to come next._

 _"_ _Where are they?"_

 _"_ _They were nearing the base of the astronomy tower when I left. They're surrounded by aurors…"_

 _"_ _And the headmaster?"_

 _"_ _Left the castle. We will wait for him to come back up there. Draw him to us with the dark mark in the sky above it."_

 _Snape nodded and stepped roughly over the prone form of Professor Flitwick._

 _"_ _Let's go. We have no time to lose."_

 _Draco went to follow him before he froze and closed his eyes in a momentary spell of indecisiveness. He took a few gulping breaths and turned back to stare at the slumped form of the curly haired Gryffindor on the floor behind him._

 _"_ _Draco, hurry-"_

 _"_ _Wait…" he murmured indistinctly as he stepped towards Granger. Snape growled impatiently but he was completely focused on the sudden thought that had gripped him. He leaned over and crouched next to her still body. She looked like she was sleeping peacefully. Draco hadn't been this close to her in a year. He had only been permitted to watch her from a distance lately, and it almost hadn't been enough to hold onto. Now he could drink in every detail of her features. He still wasn't sure how he felt about her or what she had come to mean to him, but he knew he needed the thought of Hermione Granger to cling to in the months to come._

 _Draco let himself look at her this one last time. His eyes traced over the gentle curve of her jaw and the tempting pout of her bottom lip. Shaking, he reached out and did what he had been longing to do all year. He stroked his hand lightly over a few silky curls, wrapping one curl around his finger. Granger didn't even twitch, she was out cold. His fingertips drifted over the smooth skin of a cheekbone down towards her pink lips…_

 _"_ _Draco! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"_

 _He felt Snape's hand grip his shoulder in a vice, moving to pull him up and away from the girl._

 _"_ _Just give me a moment-" he growled, shoving his godfather away, "I need to do this."_

 _Moving away from where he had been caressing her skin, Draco lowered his hand to the collar of her t-shirt. He knew what he would find there and his fingers trembled with uncertainty. As he tugged the material just slightly downwards he saw it. The gold glint of an antique chain._

 _He hastily tugged on the chain until he had managed to pull it free from her shirt and reveal the glimmering sapphire stone at its heart._

 _Draco couldn't explain what was making him do it. He just knew that he needed some piece of her to keep with him, to cherish. And this deep blue shaded gem in its leafy, intricate gold casing evoked such poignant memories for him. Images of huddling on the floor of the hospital wing, tracing the pendant with his fingers, his cheeks still damp as they explored each other's lips. It would be a tether to her somehow, he thought. A way to hold onto the goodness in the world even when he was surrounded by darkness._

 _Draco gently tugged on the chain to pull it from her neck, releasing the clasp. He clutched the metal in his palm, warm from the skin of her chest where it had rested against her beating heart._

 _"_ _Draco…"_

 _He grit his teeth, drinking her in one last time before he rose and turned his face away. He couldn't prolong it any more or he'd never have the courage to leave. And he needed to do this. As he swivelled hurriedly away, his eyes were stinging, but he stubbornly refused to let any tears fall. Especially not with Snape watching. He had been hoping the older man would just assume he was committing one last act of petty theft against his most hated mudblood enemy. That he was stealing the locket for his own nefarious thrills. But the expression on the potions master's face was terrifying. He appeared both predictably thunderous with anger and also anguished, as though he carried a great burden. Draco had never seen this kind of bleak, stricken look there before._

 _"_ _Do you realise what kind of game you're playing here?" the man hissed. Draco just blinked and nodded, his face tense and serious._

 _"_ _You have no idea," he muttered, pushing past Snape and making his way back up the corridor and away from Granger. His footfalls were steady, deliberate and swift. And with every step that led him away from her, the darkness drifted over him more and more until he almost couldn't breathe. He refused to turn around. He refused to slow down or meet Snape's eye. He just kept walking out of the dungeons and into the hellfire that reigned above._

….

Hermione stared at the blond boy before her with a vague sense of disbelief. She blinked a few times and tilted her head to one side as she considered his story. His words had washed over her a little bit numbly, as if she had almost known all along that this had happened while she was stunned. She could distantly recall discovering that it was missing later that night after Dumbledore's body was found. Hermione raised her hand and toyed with the pendant that now hung once more from her neck, pressed against her sternum. The gem was smooth and warm on her fingertips. She imagined Draco wearing it himself all these months and she shivered.

"So…" she began in a voice that croaked against her will, "what now?"

….

 **Well there's the truth about the necklace! Plot moving forwards next time! Enough backward glancing for now! On and on. Please review and let me know what you think of it so far.**


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

 **I'm glad so many reviewers noticed Snape's emotions as he witnessed certain parallels between him and Draco. Too sad. He might make a reappearance sometime! Onwards as we continue exploring our two protagonists and their connection. As always, JKR is the owner.**

 _..._

Hermione was seriously considering throwing some hexes around. Maybe a Bat-Bogey-Hex, or the classic Slugulus Eructo aimed right at someone's face. Anything was better than just sitting there grinding her teeth during Order meetings and trying not to roll her eyes. Maybe Draco's sarcastic brand of crankiness was rubbing off on her. ( _Oh dear god._ _Note to self_ , Hermione thought wryly, her face flushing crimson _don't_ _think about any part of Draco Malfoy rubbing itself anywhere…)_

It was becoming clear that there was a small group of wizards and witches in the Order of the Phoenix who resented any connection to the young Malfoy boy, who refused to trust even the most basic information he provided. This turned out to be a rather difficult hurdle for Hermione, as she was the one who was responsible for passing on his knowledge of the Death Eaters. She was quite sick and tired of having to attend meetings where she was met with a barrage of suspicion and accusations on behalf of 'her prisoner', as they called Draco.

 _Why don't they make up their bloody minds,_ she groaned to herself.

One minute they were demanding that he give information to the Order and then the next they were refusing to follow it. But she knew that now finally they had out-manoeuvred this small faction of doubters. Draco had given her the name of someone he knew was an active target of the Death Eaters and where they had been hunting for him. The man in question was Ted Tonks, father of Nymphadora. Based on Draco's word alone, they had managed to locate the man exhausted and near starving in the woods before the Death Eaters found him. Without Draco's help he would surely be dead by now. Nymphadora had been able to interpret the clues with more insight based on her superior knowledge of her father, and the Order had arrived just in time.

Even the most vehement deniers had been forced to admit that Malfoy had proven useful. Now they seemed desperate for more intelligence from the blond boy, even as they hated him in the same breath. Hermione personally thought they were hypocrites. They treated him contemptuously and demanded his help with no remorse.

But she appreciated the aid of a select few who seemed keen to foster this relationship with the newly discovered Malfoy boy. They had their supporters too. Minerva was as staunch as ever in her defence of Draco. She didn't necessarily believe in his worth herself, but she trusted Hermione's judgment implicitly. And now Tonks too was on board. She had come to Hermione once or twice asking questions about him, grateful for the rescue of her father. She wanted to know whether her cousin was genuine. Hermione had almost forgotten that the two were related, but it was true. Narcissa Malfoy had been the sister of Andromeda Tonks before the latter was disinherited and shunned from the family for marrying a muggleborn. Tonks seemed keen to meet her cousin and speak with him in person. But Hermione was still trying to convince Draco that this was a good idea – he was continuing as before, unwavering in his refusal to speak to anyone else except her. A part of her thought he was being stupid and stubborn, but a part of her also understood his concern. He had a hard time trusting others. And she now knew that she had become… _special_ to him. A revelation that had filled her with both fear and awe. Hermione wasn't sure what exactly was the nature of his obsession with her, but she knew that he had somehow come to associate her as being a symbol of his salvation from darkness. A mantle that she thought was undeserved. There was surely nothing exceptional or unique about her that would inspire such devotion. But it seemed to have kept him sane through some desolate times, so she was willing to accept it, whatever it was. And it wasn't like he was alone; that kiss had lingered within her too and haunted her through many sleepless nights.

 _What now?_ She had asked a few days ago following their heartfelt conversation about what happened in the hospital wing. Draco had smirked and shocked her by running a fingertip across the back of her hand

 _We should probably try to actually get to know each other,_ he had replied making her snort and nod in agreement.

Hermione sighed in fond remembrance and opened the door to Draco's room, politely requesting entry when she saw him instead of just storming in like so many others had in the past. She juggled the plates she carried and thought back fondly on the strange game they'd started, to get to know each other. They had taken turns asking each other silly little questions, slowly breaking down the walls that had stood between them for years. In between compiling information to give to the Order, of course.

It was…fun actually. She was peeling back layers of Draco's prickly personality and revealing things she had never thought possible.

And she was sure today would be just as interesting and illuminating for them both. It was with a light, almost excited heart that she entered his room, actually looking forward to the continuation of their game.

….

"Okay, let me think of a tricky one… hmmm…" Draco waited patiently for her to come up with her question. He didn't mind. It was worth it just to see her adorable nose scrunch up slightly as it always did when she was pondering something difficult. And she didn't like being rushed. The last time he had pressed her to hurry up, his arm had smarted for hours where she had swatted him indignantly. "Oh! I've got it! Favourite Honeydukes sweet?"

Draco snorted.

"That's it? You were thinking for five solid minutes."

"Liar. It wasn't longer than thirty seconds."

"Still, do you think knowing my preference for sweets will give you some deep insight into my soul?"

Hermione giggled prettily. He loved the way she laughed; the way her whole expression lit up and her lips crinkled in at the corners.

"Well maybe…" she retorted primly, "If you say Bloodsicles or Acid pops I'll know to run the other direction..."

"Or cockroach clusters."

"Exactly!"

Draco shook his head with the kind of uninhibited smile that the muscles in his cheeks weren't used to.

"Very well! If you must know, the answer is Sugar Quills."

Hermione made her expression look suddenly mock serious and she let out a dramatic gasp.

"Sugar Quills?"

"Very funny, Granger. And what did you learn from this fascinating answer?"

She contemplated him with narrowed eyes, her lips still curled slightly upwards.

"Well…it tells me you're a prat."

"Really? Does it indeed? And how has it revealed such an astounding conclusion?"

"Come on, Sugar Quills? They don't even have any compound flavours! It's just a glaze of sugar crystals. Pure sugar. Terrible for one's teeth! But I suppose the prat part I just already knew."

Draco snorted.

"Alright then! What's _your_ favourite?" he asked

"Mmmm… Butterscotch Bombs!"

"Oh yeh, I know them. My _grandmother_ used to eat them."

Hermione giggled again and leant her head to rest on the back of the couch, exposing the slender line of her neck. She had conjured the plush sofa a few days ago when they had come up with their 'getting to know you' game. It sat in a cosy space in front of the crackling of a brand new fireplace she had transfigured from some loose bricks. She had insisted that a _friendly_ game needed a _friendly_ space. Draco wasn't sure if she was implying that they were now friends when she said it, but he hoped not. He didn't want to be her friend. When he was all alone in this dreary room his mind sometimes toyed with him by coming up with little fantasies wherein Hermione lay sprawled out in front of his new fireplace, begging for him. Not an inch of clothing on her. Arching her back and purring like a cat in his ear…

Not something a mere _friend_ would dream of.

"Your turn."

Draco blinked and turned his attention back to her face, her features innocent and expecting as she waited for his question. He swallowed and nodded, forcing his thoughts back to the present. A few questions raced through his mind temptingly. He very much enjoyed getting to know her better. Every detail he learned only increased his respect and admiration for her. Even the silliest little titbits carried so much weight. It was as if he was piecing her together like a jigsaw puzzle scattered into a million tiny fragments, each one more interesting than the last as it formed a whole stunning picture. He finally settled on a question and turned towards her with a mischievous grin.

"First crush?"

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise, before she huffed out a breath. Her cheeks flushed in mortification.

"I claim non-compliance by reason of insanity!"

Draco actually choked a bit with laughter.

"Seriously? Well now you have to tell me."

"But it's _so_ embarrassing…"

He leaned over and gave her shoulder a little nudge with his own, his smirk positively devious now.

"Come on, Granger. We both promised to be completely honest."

Hermione seemed to glare at him for another long minute, gnawing on the edge of one fingernail as she debated with herself.

"Argh! Fine. I had a _tiny_ crush in our second year on Professor Lockhart."

He was unable to stop the burst of laughter that escaped him, coming out in a guffaw as he stared at her incredulously. Hermione blushed a deep pink and then buried her face in her hands.

"I knew you'd be a pig about it!" she groaned, her voice muffled by her palms as she refused to meet his eyes. He was still cackling at her as he drew her hands away from her face.

"Lockhart? Gilderoy Lockhart? That self-absorbed pampered prince who wore curlers to bed and had portraits of himself all over his office?"

Hermione snorted and gave a resigned chuckle herself, seeing the humour in her own confession.

"I was twelve and he really did have a wonderful smile," she argued defensively, but it was underscored by a pretty giggle.

"Eugh," he commented, sticking his tongue out and miming being sick.

"Well I suppose your first crush was Pansy Parkinson! How mundane."

Draco scoffed.

"Hell no. Don't get me wrong, Pansy tried. But she was so…er…"

"Vapid?"

"Ha! Something like that. Actually I don't remember who my first crush was. I don't think there was one specific person. Sometime at the beginning of third year I just started fancying _all_ the girls!"

Hermione laughed at him, returning his nudge by bumping her shoulder against his.

"Okay, Casanova," she teased, "Favourite subject?"

"Charms actually."

"Not Potions?"

Draco shrugged and his lips curled into a smirk.

"Despite being the teacher's favourite, no. I like the practicality of charms. The range of opportunities and skills it teaches. You?"

"Ancient Runes. It's fascinating! It helps you discover more about the origins of certain spells and how they're formed through runic patterns and incantations."

"You're such a swot. Favourite holiday?"

" _Christmas!_ "

It was difficult not to smile at the excitement gleaming in her eyes. She sat up a little straighter on the couch, practically bouncing up and down.

"Why Christmas?" he asked, captivated by her energetic response.

"Oh just _everything_ about it. The Yule tide joy, decorating the tree with my parents, playing in the snow, wearing Mrs Weasley's hideous jumpers, baking ginger bread, watching Harry's face light up every year when he receives gifts no matter how stupid they are, singing carols…" she trailed off with a wistful smile, gazing into the fireplace. Draco's heart clenched a bit as he watched her. He swallowed and inched closer to her on the couch.

"You actually decorate the tree with your parents?"

Hermione frowned in puzzlement at his question.

"Of course. Mum makes spicy cinnamon hot chocolate and puts on her favourite Dean Martin album. And Dad always obsesses over getting as many lights on the tree as possible until there's just this big jumble of electrical cords."

Although he didn't really understand some of the references she had just made, he could certainly hear the tone of pure yearning and joy in her voice. But although she was still smiling, her eyes were a little sad as she stared at the fireplace.

"The house elves always put up the tree for us. I've never actually decorated one myself," he admitted softly.

"Really?" her tone was one of disbelief tinged with pity.

"I never did much with my parents growing up. Certainly not something so… cosy."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Maybe I will get to do it someday."

She nodded, frowning softly at him. He couldn't stop his poor, lonely mind conjuring an image of arranging baubles on a tree with Hermione humming softly behind him and the scent of hot chocolate wafting through the room. Brushing snowflakes from her curly hair…

"Next question?" she asked shakily, and he nodded encouragingly. She thought for a few moments, her nose scrunching up again. "Ummm… what form does your boggart take?"

Draco's eyes widened at the question.

"Let me guess," he drawled, "Yours is a library book filled with graffiti!"

He received another shove on the shoulder for his teasing joke.

"I would get angry at you, but it's actually not that far from the truth. In our Third Year Defence exam my boggart turned into Professor McGonagall. She told me I'd failed everything."

He chuckled at the amusing image of Hermione being most terrified of her own academic failure. But he was sure in the years since then, her boggart would most likely have changed. His certainly had. They had all known too much darkness since then.

"What about you?" she asked. He took a deep breath, his brows furrowing tightly. He took a long time to answer, long enough that Hermione shifted towards him a bit, cocking her head to the side curiously. He cleared his throat.

"Are you sure you want to know?"

Her lips pursed into a slight frown and then she gasped and slapped her hands up.

"Oh I'm sorry Draco," she groaned, "I should have realised… It's You-Know-Who, isn't it?"

He shook his head with a pained grimace, barely even noticing that she had used his first name.

"No actually…" Draco let out the breath he didn't realise he had been holding and curled his fingers into fists, "There was a boggart hiding in a closet in Lucius's study last year. I went to get rid of it, thinking it would be as easy as it was in Third Year," he confessed in a low murmur, the humour dropping completely from his features and tone as the memory washed over him. Hermione's face crumpled up in concern and she listened attentively, her brown eyes fixed on him with such intense compassion it gave him the courage he needed to continue, "I thought it would be the same. Back in third year it used to be this gross inferi. But then…when it emerged from the closet…"

His voice choked up a bit and he struggled to go on. Hermione did not shove him again, but she did place her hand gently on his shoulder for support. He took a shaky breath.

"It was me. The boggart was _me_. At first I was confused, but then it was approaching this huddled form in the centre of the room. A person. I watched myself start torturing them, but he… _I_ was grinning. I was enjoying it, laughing madly and goading their screams…"

He shuddered and trailed off. He didn't know why, but he had chosen not to tell her the other truly terrifying part; that the huddled form writhing and shrieking in pain had been _her._ Her curly hair was too distinctive for it to have been anyone else. He trembled at the memory. Hermione's hand had tightened on his shoulder unconsciously, before she noticed how hard she was gripping him and she released him with a whispered apology.

"Oh Draco…"

He stared at a mouldy spot on the wall behind her.

"It was…horrible. I was a monster."

"But don't you see?" Hermione murmured, her voice dripping with emotion, "That's not you! You're not a monster. Your greatest fear is turning into them – it's becoming someone like your father! And that shows strength, Draco."

He considered her words for a moment, allowing them to wash over him and it actually helped soothed the prickling of terror he felt at the memory. She was right. The boggart wasn't a reflection of himself – it merely revealed to him what he feared becoming. What he refused to become.

"Thank you."

Hermione nodded and sat back quietly on the couch. She was staring down at the fireplace and contemplating what he'd just told her with a grim expression. Draco felt his stomach roll over nervously as he watched her. The firelight was casting a gentle orange glow on her skin that made her look so very beautiful. It shone in her irises; specks of gold flickering in the deep brown. He was filled with the desperate urge to put a smile back on her face.

"So…" he asked, his voice slightly croaky, "favourite food?"

….

...

It was much later that night when Hermione was woken by a noise. She had been sleeping quite lightly, her mind consumed by thoughts of the blond boy next door. She had been unable to drift any further into her dreams as her brain kept ticking around and reflecting on the things he had revealed to her that day. But when a noise infiltrated her bleary senses, she shot upright in bed. It was a groaning, gasping sound. Hermione padded over towards where it was coming from and pressed her ear against the wall. The wood was cold and rough on her cheek. But she could hear it clearly now. It was whimpering, sobbing, heavy breathing.

It was coming from Draco's room.

Despite her rational mind whispering doubts in her ear, Hermione padded over to her door and made her way to his room. She knocked softly but received no reply. She knocked again and called his name softly. No answer again. Then she realised that the room had a silencing spell on it so that Malfoy couldn't overhear anything going on outside in headquarters. She cursed Remus Lupin for all she was worth and twisted the handle to enter his room. The room's wards responded to her magical signature as they always did. She peered her head in and tried to see what was going on without being too invasive.

Everything was dark inside. Only small slivers of moonlight trickled in through the curtains. But the noises were louder now. Heart thudding, Hermione entered the room and crept towards the bed. The floor was icy on her bare feet and she shivered. She should have put on her dressing gown.

"Draco?" she whispered

The still night was broken by another louder, pained groan. She was being eerily reminded of that night in the hospital wing. She slunk right up to the bed and looked down on the figure beneath her. Draco was wrapped tightly in the white sheet, his arms and legs kicked out at strange angles. The sheet was practically strangling him. His back was arched and his face was painted with an expression of agony.

He was fast asleep.

His eyes were scrunched up tightly and he was grinding his teeth. Hermione's gut clenched with worry. He was clearly having a nightmare. She stared at him numbly for a long time before working up the courage to act. Leaning over, she grasped his shoulder and shook it very mildly.

"Draco…"

He moaned pitifully and thrashed his head to the side, but did not wake. She shook him a little harder.

"Draco!"

A gasp of breath was sucked in and he rasped out the word _'no'_ in a croaking, desperate whisper. Hermione's throat convulsed with sympathy, blinking rapidly as she reached down to shake him again. Before she could, she froze in fright as Draco's eyes slammed open and he stared at her in unseeing horror.

" _NOO…_ "

He grabbed the wrist that was stretched towards him so hard she winced. With another yell the blond sat upright, panting and tugging her towards him with a threatening growl.

" _Draco_ -" she croaked with a tingle of fear. This time saying his name seemed to penetrate whatever cloud of terror he was lost in. His movements stiffened and stopped. Then his eyes cleared a little and he stared at her in shock.

"Her…mione?" he asked in a stammering croak. She nodded rapidly, gripped awkwardly in his firm clutches. Once he had managed to properly absorb what was happening, he immediately released her from his grasp.

"Wh…what… why are you here?"

He looked confused and lost. Hermione's heart skipped.

"You were having a nightmare," she explained in a very quiet voice, trying to sound calmer than she felt. Draco shut his eyes tightly. He took a couple of deep, steadying breaths. When he opened them his expression was tormented.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked urgently. Hermione shook her head and he let out a sigh of relief. There was an incredibly uncomfortable silence between them for a few moments before she was bold enough to break it. She shifted slightly on the edge of the mattress where she now sat near him.

"Are _you_ alright?"

He didn't meet her gaze. He was staring at an invisible spot on the sheet, which was clasped firmly in his white-knuckled fingers.

"I…It's fine. I'm used to it."

He didn't seem to even be aware of his own response as he continued to stare blindly between them. His whole body was trembling and held taut with repressed terror. Hermione reached the few centimetres across and touched her fingers to the back of his hand.

"I get them too," she told him with quiet intensity. It was something that no one else knew, not even Harry and Ron. Even in their shared tent she had made sure that they did not notice her nightmares. It was her divulging this secret in a tremulous voice that finally made his eyes connect with hers. His gaze was haunted by whatever had plagued him in his dreams. She could see the echoes of that horror in all the minutiae of his face. Her fingertips were still pressed gently to the back of his hand. Draco turned it over and they linked their fingers together. Using the hold on her hand, he tugged her forwards. Hermione was pulled further onto the bed, so close that she could feel his heavy breaths on her face and smell the slight hint of the spearmint toothpaste he must have used.

Once she got her bearings again, she noticed that his gaze had dropped from her eyes. She flushed when she realised its new direction. She was wearing thin cotton pyjamas, a dark forest green, and nothing underneath. Hermione squirmed a bit on the bed, trying to curl her body in on itself. She watched as Draco's tongue slipped out to lick his lips so quickly she almost missed it. Then he was leaning in towards her and she felt the breath freeze in her lungs. Her body tensed up as he came closer, and she was certain that he would kiss her. But as he got impossibly close to her, Draco exhaled a shaky breath and simply pressed his forehead against hers. They sat there for an endless moment just breathing in sync, hands intertwined and heads resting on each other.

"Will you stay with me?" he asked in a hoarse whisper so soft she thought at first that she had imagined it. Then she swallowed and leaned back to stare into his grey, steely eyes. He blinked and returned her gaze with something frantic and chilling burning in his eyes. Hermione paused a moment to consider what he was asking, whether she would be willing to sleep in here, so close and so intimately with the blond Slytherin boy. It took mere seconds to make up her mind, driven more by the sound of her soul crying out for him, rather than her brain for once.

"Of course," she croaked. But her anxiety was strong, and she still regarded him and the bed between them with an anxious frown. Draco saw her hesitation and took the lead. He squeezed her hand encouragingly and pulled on it to softly draw her fully onto the bed. Hermione followed him a bit timidly, gnawing on her bottom lip. When he raised the sheet and straightened it from where it had moved to wrap itself tightly around his body, she slid in after him. Hermione wriggled around until she was lying with awkward stiffness flat on her back, looking up at the cracked ceiling above them. She saw him in her periphery lying on his side and staring at her and she turned her head to rest her cheek on the pillow beneath them, facing him in return. Rather than going to sleep he was watching her warily, as if afraid that either she was just a figment of his imagination or that she would disappear entirely and without any warning. She gave him a crooked, nervous smile that she hoped would reassure him, even though her heart was pounding.

Draco seemed to take comfort from her smile. He reached up and stroked his fingers lightly across her cheek, his trembling fingers tucking an errant curl behind her ear. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to get to sleep while her pulse was racing like this, but figured she may as stay awake anyway.

Gritting her teeth to calm her nerves, Hermione snuggled deeper under the sheet and turned her whole body to face him. She let out the breath she had been holding and smiled again, more convincingly. Draco smiled back, a lot of the tension from his nightmare easing from his muscles. He looked almost relaxed now. And it was as if his blond hair was white in the light of the moon. Feeling suddenly bold, Hermione fidgeted forwards a few inches until she was pressed against his chest. He was wearing a simple t-shirt she had transfigured for him from a spare handkerchief of hers. She tucked her head underneath his chin as he lifted the same hand to wrap tentatively around her waist. A hot sensation spread through her stomach. This close to him, his skin smelled of something faint and musky and very masculine. The heat spiked when she felt his hand tug her even closer towards him from its place around her hips, pulling until their legs were almost entwined. He burrowed his nose into her curls. His slender frame was still quivering fretfully.

"Are you okay?" she whispered into the darkness, her voice muffled by his chest. He nodded against the top of her head, and she felt his lips brush over her forehead briefly. Slowly the shivering faded until their bodies provided enough heat to warm even Draco's weary spirit.

Neither of them slept.

It was too much, too many feelings passing between them. Too many sensations to take in. Hermione registered every detail of him as she nestled deeper against his solid chest. And she knew Draco was awake too. He had been completely still at first after they had settled, but now she felt his fingers twitching against her waist and begging to stroke the patch of skin on her spine that had been slowly revealed by the slight movement of her pyjamas riding up her back. Hermione clenched her eyes shut as her skin flared with more heat. She became aware that goosebumps had started prickling and spreading over her skin, not from cold but from a strange sort of longing that was welling up from deep inside her navel. Draco could clearly feel it too. He chuckled hoarsely against her hair and ceased the restless movements of his fingers. When he spoke, his voice was husky and strained.

"So…um… favourite animal?"

….

 **So much tension it's killing me. Hopefully you saw some progress in their relationship this chapter and you're keen to see more. A bit of teasing too, sorry. Hope you enjoyed – please review! Your words inspire me.**


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

 **Sorry for the slight delay. Work has been crazy this week and I had very little time to write. Forgive me! Here is an interesting new addition with some new faces… Enjoy! As always JKR is the true owner!**

The faint rosy light of pre-dawn flickered in through the curtain, casting a glow on the room below. It was cold outside. The winter air was frosting on the glass in patterns like icy white spider webs.

But inside the room, snuggled under the downy bed covers, Draco was toasty warm. He emerged from a deep sleep, his foggy mind cataloguing everything around him as he tensed and untended his muscles experimentally. The room was musky and filled with the scent of lavender and honey, and his cheek was resting on a pillow of soft hair. He shifted his hips forward and came into contact with the curves of another body next to his. Draco's lips stretched into a lazy grin as he blearily opened his eyes. Once the world came into focus he licked his cracked lips and observed the person next to him, a tight clenching of pleasure unfurling in his stomach and stretching down to his toes.

This was the third time Hermione had come to him during the night; the third time they had fallen asleep cradled in each other's arms. The third time he had woken from a horrific nightmare only to soothed effortlessly by her fingers tenderly stroking his hair and the feel of her slender neck against his cheek as he burrowed into her warmth.

A distant part of him – the proud, arrogant boy from his youth – was mortified that she had seen him like this. That she had witnessed him in such weak moments. But his pride was nothing compared to the sensation of being so closely intertwined with Hermione Granger. Embracing her in his arms rid him of any further nightmares. And yet it was exquisite torture. Even though he revelled in these nights, it always left him feeling strangely unsatisfied.

Until this morning…

Draco wriggled closer to the soft form next to his. His eyes roved over Hermione's face, relaxed and looking so very peaceful in sleep. Her lips were swollen and her hair caught up in a tangled mess beneath them.

This had never happened. Not like this.

He had never woken up with her before. The previous two nights he had woken to a slightly warm bed and an empty space. Sometime before dawn Hermione would slip silently from his room and he would wake alone. He wished she wouldn't. But maybe she was too embarrassed to face him the next morning, or maybe she feared running into one of her friends creeping from his room at a more reasonable hour. Either way, he had wished so fiercely for her to stay with him. And now it seemed his wish had come true. Hermione had probably just slipped into a very deep sleep, unable to rouse herself as usual. But he certainly planned to take advantage of every second.

Draco leaned his head closer to take a deep breath in through his nose, basking in the soft scent of her shampoo as he lifted a trembling hand to brush an errant curl off her forehead. He held very still, not daring to move a muscle, but she didn't even stir. Draco bit into his bottom lip and stifled the urge to groan at the truly warm feeling seeping into every inch of his body. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this warm. All his recent memories involved painfully cold, cracked skin and shivering limbs. And Hermione looked simply delectable in her current state. Her hair was a wild cascade of curls. Her long lashes rested gently on the tips of her cheeks and her chest was rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

 _Bloody hell_ , Draco cursed softly to himself with a dry smirk to match.

To be perfectly honest, he had begun to fear over the last few months that his body was slowly withering away into an icy state of numbness. He'd been living in a corpse-like daze for so long he'd forgotten what this felt like. But he was harder than he'd been in years. Draco swallowed and let the hand that had tucked away her curl linger for a moment, his fingertip tracing the curve of her cheek. It wasn't exactly uncommon for him to wake up excited and throbbing first thing in the morning. He was still a young man, after all. But lately, trapped in the demented hell that was Malfoy Manor, any of his normal, habitual physical responses had become almost distasteful to him. He had felt dirty and corrupted by the dark magic that was thick in the very air around him, feeling its evil like a bitter taste on his tongue. He'd nearly forgotten the simple pleasure of waking up aroused.

But he'd have to be an actual corpse not to be hard right now. Or at least a Hufflepuff. Waking up next to Hermione was sending his mind reeling with all sorts of fantasies he'd barely allowed himself to imagine for fear of getting carried away.

Draco grit his teeth and shifted forwards so that he could slip his legs around hers, entwining them together. He knew that he didn't have long to treasure this moment. Soon she would wake up and dart from the room with a blush staining her cheeks. But her skin was so creamy and soft, and he loved the little sighs she released in her sleep as she unconsciously snuggled closer. Another breathy whimper escaped her and Draco felt himself twitch against her hip.

 _Granger's going to be the death of me…_ he thought ruefully, brushing his nose across the ridge of her collarbone. But he would happily welcome death if it came in her arms.

Lifting a lethargic hand, still weary from sleep, Draco toyed with the sapphire pendant hanging down, dangling from its fragile gold chain and resting just above Hermione's sternum. He felt a spike of warmth shoot through him as he recalled many lonely nights huddled on the cold tiles of his bathroom at the manor. He remembered the way that this seemingly insignificant locket had given him so much courage and strength. Tilting his head closer he placed a soft, tender kiss on Hermione's neck, just below her jaw. Draco let his eyes drift shut then, embracing the heady feeling of sleep taking over his senses once more. He was in no rush to have her leave and he could relish a few more stolen moments here together.

The only problem now was thinking of a way to control his urges. Or maybe he didn't have to anymore, he whispered to himself. His fevered dreams certainly agreed with this thought as his cock pulsed longingly. Draco knew with a grim certainty that if Hermione continued to occupy his bed at night then it was only a matter of time before he would take her. Somewhere between sleeping and waking, it had become clear to him that if things continued this way he would have her soon enough, and judging by the tender smile on her lips as she squirmed and nestled closer to his chest, it wouldn't take much to make her his. After months and months of mindless, confused yearning, Draco finally knew exactly what he needed to survive. And it wasn't sanctuary or a flimsy little locket. It was Hermione Granger.

….

….

….

The woman sitting in front of Hermione had a stubborn frown curling her lips. She had folded her arms in front of her chest and refused to move until she was given a satisfying answer to her demands.

 _Draco's not going to like this…_

She was pretty certain that the blond Slytherin boy was still determined to remain closed off completely from the rest of the Order. He hadn't spoken a word to anyone else all week again, not even Minerva. But there was a tiny, very slim chance that he would speak to this woman. Hermione certainly thought it would do him a world of good. But he was notoriously obstinate when he set his mind to something.

The lady before her was in late forties, her black hair streaked with fine wisps of grey. It was pulled up into a stylish, no-nonsense bun. Her skin was pale like porcelain, and she wore practical robes in midnight blue. But it was her eyes that really stood out. They were hooded and dark, making her look painfully similar to her sister Bellatrix.

Hermione sighed as she considered the woman, pondering over how she should proceed, knowing she needed to be cautious.

"Andromeda, I know you have the best of intentions, but I'm just not sure whether he's ready."

"But he's fighting for our side now, isn't he?"

Hermione sighed, leaning forward to prop her elbows on her knees, her expression grim.

"In a way, yes. But he's still so…fragile."

Andromeda nodded in understanding, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Hermione, he saved Ted. He saved my husband's life."

"I know."

"I need to say thank you. I need to talk to him."

Hermione grimaced, wondering whether she could convince Draco to agree to speak with his aunt. Or at the very least just listen to her. If there was one thing she knew that he needed right now, it was family. He just might not be willing to accept that yet.

"I'll ask him. But if he refuses there's nothing I can do, Andromeda. I won't force him to step outside his comfort zone. Not when he's so unstable and still recovering from everything he's seen and done."

Andromeda nodded curtly, a pained frown on her face.

"I still can't believe it. When I heard that Draco Malfoy of all people was responsible for alerting the Order about Ted… I felt such _relief_."

"Relief?" Hermione asked curiously and Andromeda gave her a mournful little smile.

"I was thankful that another person in my sad, sorry family had the courage to finally do the right thing. I'd always heard that he was just as arrogant and petty as his father. And I thought for sure that Bellatrix would have got her claws into him. I was glad to be proven wrong."

"Well I can promise you this; Draco is _nothing_ like them."

"What _is_ he like?"

Hermione considered the question carefully. She was both surprised and pleased that Draco's aunt was showing an interest in him. The woman sitting before her was a serious, solemn sort of person but very kind. Her heart was definitely in the right place. But Hermione was still wary of saying too much, especially when her own relationship with Draco had become so complicated lately. Just remembering the feeling of waking up in his arms this morning had a pleasant tingle running up her spine at the same time as her heart skipped with fear.

"Draco is… well, he's deeply troubled, bitter, resentful and he can still be terribly selfish and a bit of a prat." Andromeda raised one elegant eyebrow quizzically in surprise. But Hermione just smiled and continued, "But he's also one of the strongest people I know. And he's overcome so much. He's smart and funny and he can also be so tender and caring."

Andromeda gave her a knowing smile and Hermione blushed, biting down into her bottom lip. A small voice in the back of her mind reminded her that he was also impossibly handsome. And that the intensity of his stare could make her melt into a useless puddle. Her brain was still replaying on repeat again and again the feeling of Draco's fingers stroking the skin of her cheek, teasing a strand of her hair. His lips cracked and dry but so tender pressed against the racing pulse in her neck. She knew that he had thought she was asleep this morning when he lay there watching her, holding her tighter to him. In truth she had thought for a while that maybe she actually was asleep and it was all a surreal dream. But her senses were too sharply attuned to his actions, and she had lain there patiently, every nerve ending on fire, wondering for the hundredth time whether she was going totally mad. Hermione blinked a couple of times and her blush darkened at Andromeda's curious stare.

"I would really like the opportunity to thank him and to meet him," the older woman murmured at last, "Please tell me you'll try to convince him."

Hermione nodded, an understanding smile on her lips.

"Of course! I can't make any promises, but I will try."

"Thank you."

She cocked her head to the side then and observed the other woman curiously.

"How did you know that Draco was worth all this? You clearly want to reach out to him. What made you think that he was better than just a cowardly snake trying to save his own skin?"

Her words were, of course, a direct quote from some disgruntled Order member who was reluctant to work alongside the infamous Malfoy heir. But Andromeda didn't even hesitate before she replied.

"You did."

" _Me_?"

She leaned forward and patted Hermione's hand gently.

"Of course, dear. Minerva seems to think that the boy is quite fond of you. That tells me everything."

"Why?"

"Because I remember what it was like to be a part of that family. I remember the hatred and the evil that pervaded my life before I left. And for Draco to be friendly with someone like you… a _muggleborn_ … it speaks volumes for his character. To come from such a world and to grow close to a muggleborn flies in the face of every negative lesson that's been drilled into him. And I can certainly empathise with that."

Hermione gnawed nervously on her bottom lip, knowing that Andromeda was referring to her happy but controversial marriage to Ted Tonks and how she had been disowned and cast out, proudly choosing her own path in life. It caused a niggling unease to take root in Hermione's heart. Having her bizarre friendship with Draco compared to Andromeda's marriage was more than a little unsettling. As she said farewell to Andromeda shortly after, she contemplated the stairs up to Draco's room with a creeping anxiety. She wondered uneasily how she could face him again, knowing for certain now just how deeply she was falling…

….

….

….

Draco glared warily at the new occupant of the room who had taken a seat on the transfigured couch. It had been three days since Hermione had first mentioned Andromeda Tonks to him. She's told him his aunt was grateful and just wanted to talk to him. At first he had been adamantly against the idea. Hermione seemed understanding but she was even more stubborn than he was, if that was possible. She was a typical, obvious Gryffindor, of course, and totally lacking in subtlety. He could hardly fail to notice how she suddenly increased the amount of stories and answers she gave him those few days that highlighted the importance of family.

And damnit, it had worked.

She might have been missing some finesse, but her strategy was effective. Not to mention that Granger seemed to get genuinely emotional when she spoke about her parents, making him wildly envious. He would have been lying if he'd said he didn't want that connection that she clearly shared with her closest relatives. Even though thousands of miles separated them, there were still such strong, unbreakable ties binding them together.

So Draco had finally agreed. Honestly he would probably agree to anything she suggested at this point. She was a little hellcat when she set her mind to something. He'd submitted to her persistent suggestions eventually, both because he was genuinely curious to meet his aunt, but also because it gave him a little thrill to see the delighted grin on her lips. He loved the way those lips crinkled at the corners into cheeky dimples.

Andromeda observed him quietly for a long time, but there was no malice or judgment in her eyes. She seemed sincere enough, even though her face itself had a rather stern appearance. But looks could be deceiving; it was clear that although she could have passed for Bellatrix's twin, that the two women were nothing alike. That was why he was willing to speak with her even though he had refused to talk to anyone but Hermione since he'd arrived. Because in those sunken, Black family eyes there was a glimmer of something that felt like acceptance.

"You look like your mother," she stated quietly after a long pause, and Draco found himself frowning in surprised confusion. He worked up the courage to reply.

"Most people say I look like Lucius," he commented, testing the waters to see where they stood. Andromeda nodded calmly.

"Yes, I can see that. But if you look beneath the superficial things, you are most definitely Narcissa's boy."

Draco wasn't sure how to answer her. He felt a lump welling up in his throat and he tried to swallow, thinking about his poor mother and how she would have felt about this. Swallowing he cleared his throat and stared at Andromeda intently.

"I would have assumed you hated my mother after…everything that happened between you two."

Andromeda actually frowned sadly and shook her head.

"Of course not. She's my sister. And despite the circumstances that led to our parting, she has never said an unkind word to me in my life. Please Draco…" she paused and curled her hands into cautious fists, a gesture he recognised as someone trying to mask their pain. Then she continued in a strangled voice, "Tell me how she's doing. Was she alright when you left her?"

The air froze in Draco's lungs and he almost choked on it. His eyes immediately dropped to the space of couch between them, unable to meet her eye as he felt his own sting with memories of his mother's lifeless body. One of the many horrific things that plagued his nightmares. His heart was racing as he struggled to take a few deep breaths. By the time he raised his gaze up to Andromeda again, his aunt was already looking distraught as if she had guessed the truth from his silent battle with himself.

"Oh Draco…" she whispered, and he finally cleared his throat to speak.

"She had a heart attack in the end I think. She was…um…I tried to help her. But it was all too much for her. She wasn't eating-"

Draco wasn't able to continue. This was a woman he had only just met. And although it was his mother's sister he was speaking to, she was still very much a stranger. Andromeda closed her eyes for a few moments as her face crumpled with grief. He watched her, realising that there was someone else in the world who shared his pain. And then, in a gesture so similar to Narcissa it actually hurt him to see it, Andromeda seemed to smooth out the creases of her anguish and appeared serene once more.

"I am very sorry for your loss, Draco."

He nodded glumly once in acknowledgement.

"Thank you."

"Your mother was a very tender-hearted person trapped in a very dark world. I will mourn her greatly."

"So will I."

An awkward pause descended again before his aunt spoke once more.

"Hermione has filled me in on some of the details of your surrender and your work with the Order. She seems to be a very passionate advocate for you."

He nodded, feeling a pleasant flutter in his chest at the mention of the fiery little lioness. As usual it was the one thing guaranteed to cheer him up.

"Granger's certainly a force to be reckoned with," he agreed with a slight smirk.

"I'm pleased she convinced you to see me today."

He smiled tightly and nodded.

"To be honest I wasn't sure at first… but she wore me down. She seems to think that it might be good for me to meet someone who's…"

Draco trailed off and a muscle twitched in his jaw. He stared sullenly at the wall for a few seconds before he felt Andromeda's warm hand touch his.

"Family?" she asked softly, her tone serious and he knew that she was being perfectly sincere. She might be the mirror image of Bellatrix, but her eyes were kind and welcoming.

"Something like that," he agreed with a nervous shrug of his shoulders. Andromeda gave his hand a quick squeeze then leaned back to give him back his space. He got the feeling she was treating him like one would a wild animal that was cornered and afraid.

"Draco," she began in a quiet, earnest voice, "One week ago you gave the Order information that helped them find my husband. You saved his life. I will never be able to thank you enough for that, but please know that you will _always_ have a place in our family if you ever want it."

Draco was overcome by a feeling of something that resembled shame. After everything he had done and how he had acted throughout his youth, he felt suddenly unworthy of the forgiveness and affection offered to him by good people like Hermione and the woman sitting before him now. All his life he had never felt valued, always denigrated and taunted, told to be better, try harder. But he always failed. He was never good enough. To be treated with compassion instead of contempt was like a balm to his soul. It was what had made him cling to the memory of Hermione's kindness after that night in the hospital wing; the way she had put aside past hatred and had embraced him so tenderly. And now Andromeda was offering something that he had always boasted about but never really experienced. A family.

It was all too much. Draco couldn't quite meet her eye but he nodded stiffly and hoped that she got the message and saw through his hard demeanour. He wasn't sure whether he deserved it or not, but this was the second person to really reach out to him with no suspicion or doubt, just simple human affection. He silently vowed to himself that if he survived this war he would do everything in his power to build his own family and follow this new path that was stretching out before him. He wasn't sure exactly how to label the emotion coursing through him right now. But he thought it felt a bit like hope.

….

….

….

Hermione winced as a floorboard creaked under her foot. It was now a week since she had started slipping into Draco's room each night to curl up in his arms. By some kind of unspoken agreement they had both decided that they slept far better wrapped up together than they did alone. Hermione revelled in these moments with him. In daylight Draco could be prickly, caustic and sometimes too sharp for his own good. But in the pitch black of midnight, there was something so tender about the way he touched her, the way he cradled her close to his chest and breathed her in as if he was worried she might vanish.

But there was still a pinprick of guilt that gnawed at her stomach in the early hours of the morning. A niggling fear about what people might think. So every morning she snuck away from his arms and stole out of his room as the sun was rising, to return to her bed.

Hermione glanced one last time at the figure lying sprawled out and boneless in the bed behind her. Draco looked so peaceful in sleep. His face was relaxed and almost boyish, and he was snoring softly into his pillow. It was endearing really. She smiled fondly as one leg twitched restlessly beneath the sheet, shaking her head at the bizarre thought that Draco Malfoy of all people actually looked _cute._ It was a word she thought she'd never use to describe him.

With a wry shake of her head she sidled out into the hallway, tugging her robe around her to ward off the chill and very carefully pulling the door shut.

 _Maybe I'll ask to take him outside,_ she thought vaguely, thinking about the ragged little courtyard out the back of the kitchen. At least the air would be fresh and the walls different.

Smiling a little wider at the fleeting idea, Hermione spun around in the direction of her bedroom. Suddenly she froze and her feet grinded to a stop on the coarse wooden floorboards. She had come face to face with a pair of accusing green eyes, glinting in stunned fury as they traced a path between her and the door to Malfoy's room. Hermione's lungs sucked in a painful gasp of air and she felt her blood rush in a shocked daze to her head. Only one word managed to come out of her mouth, her voice a mere terrified squeak.

" _Harry!_ "

….

….

….

..

.

 **Oh my gosh I'm sorry. I'm so mean. I am a horrible person to leave you with such a cliff hanger. But stay tuned for fireworks! Review and let me know what you think!**


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

 **Well I'd better make up for that nasty cliff-hanger! Tenfold. This is honestly the longest Fanfic chapter I've ever written! I just couldn't split it into two, it didn't sound right. Lots of drama and angst ahead. And time for some progress I think. As always JKR is the creator!**

 **…** **.**

 **…** **.**

"Harry!"

Hermione stared at her friend in dismay as he took a step closer, moving out fully from the shadows. His expression was twisted in a glare of accusation and even in the dim lighting of the hallway she could see the twitching muscle in his jaw that signalled the rise of his infamous temper. Her trepidation increased. Hermione twisted her hands together and tried to widen her eyes in innocent surprise, despite knowing how suspicious she must look emerging from Draco's room in the pinkish pre-dawn glow, her hair tousled and wild from sleep and still wearing her pyjamas.

"What are you doing up so early?" she asked, her voice shaking with nerves. She saw Harry's hands clench into fists as his eyes pierced her, making her want to shrink back and through the door behind her as though she were invisible. He skulked towards her slowly, looking her up and down.

"What am _I_ doing up?" he spat, his voice a hoarse whisper of outrage, "How about what the hell are you doing? Why were you in Malfoy's room?"

Hermione shrugged, aiming for a casual look.

"I was just checking on him. I thought I heard a noise."

Harry didn't even blink at her explanation. He loomed closer to her again.

"Don't lie to me, Hermione! I saw you sneaking into his room hours ago," her heart plummeted at this revelation and she felt her cheeks go stark white as the blood drained from her face. Harry continued in a low, dangerous tone, "At first I thought there was some harmless explanation. But I kept checking your room every hour and you never returned. You were with him all night."

Hermione pursed her lips. She was torn between feeling fearful about what Harry had discovered, as well as incensed that he had clearly been spying on her. It seemed he had not dropped the habit at all since their school days.

"It's not what it looks like, Harry," she told him with a stern frown, "I was just-"

"Just what? Shagging him?"

"No!" she replied, appalled at his rude tone, "I was comforting him. He was having a nightmare, that's all."

"Comforting?" he spluttered in disbelief, his skin dotting with a crimson blush of anger, "Is that what you call it?"

Hermione felt her teeth gritting together at his words and she folded her arms in front of her.

"For your information, Harry James Potter, _yes_ it was just comfort. But even if it was something more, would that be so wrong?"

His mouth dropped open in an expression of revulsion.

"Are you mad? He's a _Death Eater!_ "

"Not anymore."

"He has a bloody Dark Mark branded on his arm, Hermione."

She winced a bit at his tone, not used to hearing her friend sound so cruel. But his eyes were burning with rage in an expression she hadn't seen since the days of Professor Umbridge. She let out a breath and tried to speak to him calmly to diffuse the tension.

"It's just a mark, Harry. It doesn't define who he is now."

"Bullshit. Malfoy's always been an evil, slimy little prick. And he's clearly manipulating you! I bet he didn't even have a nightmare, he was just faking it."

She snorted, throwing her hands up and stalking past him, further into the corridor.

"Don't be ridiculous. Why would he do that?"

"To turn you against me."

Hermione stared at him with incredulity. She blinked a couple of times in shock at his ludicrous suggestion. But the more she thought about it, the more she realised that she should have expected this. Harry was her best friend and she loved him dearly. But he really did have a problem seeing the world in different shades of grey. To him everyone was either good or evil with no moral ambiguity in between. She thought of the way he had panicked and become so conflicted over Snape's memory of his father James. He could hardly reconcile the idea of his dad being a good guy while also having done some terrible things. So the fact that Draco Malfoy used to treat them so cruelly was a history that he simply could not overcome. Once a Death Eater always a Death Eater. She actually pitied her friend. After everything he'd been through, he was pretty messed up.

"Harry please listen to me," she said in a forced steady voice, even though she was seething quietly inside, "Draco is not our enemy. He regrets his past and he's trying to do the right thing. Horrible things have happened to him…"

"So you're calling him _Draco_ now? You're defending him? How could you do this to me?"

Hermione groaned and knotted her fingers into her hair.

"To _you?_ Merlin Harry, I'm not doing anything to you! This is my life, my choice. It's actually none of your damn business."

"So you _are_ shagging him?"

"No I'm not! But that still doesn't give you the right to forbid it."

Harry glowered at her, pacing back and forth in front of her. His hair was sticking up in all directions and his face had gone white. Hermione watched him in her own state of silent fury. How dare he speak to her like this? She knew that he distrusted Malfoy, she knew he hated him, but there was no excuse to treat her like she had betrayed him.

"He cursed Katie Bell! He almost killed Ron!"

"Those were the actions of a desperate boy," she retorted powerfully, her chin held high, "Do you really think he fully planned out those things as part of some evil scheme? Do those seem like the plans of someone thinking rationally? Or was it someone who was frantic and half mad with fear?"

"I don't care! I should never have let you speak to him in the first place."

" _Let_ me?" she repeated furiously.

"He's using you! He's just trying to control you."

"You are way out of line, Harry. You are being totally unreasonable. You're blinded by your prejudices."

Harry's frown deepened and he froze in his pacing to step closer to her. He wasn't that tall really, but he seemed to tower over her.

"So that's it. You're happy to betray your best friends for _him?_ For a quick shag?"

"For goodness sake, I'm not shagging Draco Bloody Malfoy!" she spat out in a tired, frustrated tone. The palms of her hands were sore from little crescent shaped indents where her fingernails had dug into her skin. She was also a bit self-conscious about the fact that her and Draco _did_ actually have a past. They had kissed before, and even though it was a long time ago she could hardly ignore or deny the fact that she wanted to do it again. Falling asleep pressed against his body every night was…nice. More than nice. He was always so warm against her skin. And so tall that she felt safe and precious wrapped tightly in his arms, her petit form burrowed against him. Getting to know him the last week or so had also uncovered feelings deeper than she'd thought possible.

"But you want to," he remarked, seeing her guilty expression, "I've watched you spending more and more time with him, always disappearing into his room for hours. And now you're sleeping together!"

"So? I'm supposed to be taking care of him, aren't I?"

"You're supposed to just watch him to make sure he doesn't hurt anyone or do anything dangerous! Maybe get some information out of him. Not hop into his bed at night like some kind of..."

Harry trailed off sullenly and she felt her cheeks flush red with embarrassment and barely supressed rage. Her eyes turned cold as her friend squirmed beneath her stare. He looked instantly remorseful, his teeth biting down hard into his lower lip.

"Some kind of what?" she questioned in a steely voice. Harry looked nervous at first but then his face actually dropped and it seemed as though a lot of the anger had suddenly left him as his shoulders sagged. His eyes closed briefly and he let out a long, shaky breath. He stayed silent for a few moments while he collected himself before he spoke.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I just… I don't understand this, Hermione! This is _Malfoy_ we're talking about."

She took a deep breath and thanked Merlin that he was finally calming down. A small flicker of hope lit up in her chest, seeing her opening. She looked her friend straight in the eye with every bit of sincerity in her tired body.

"No, Harry. This is _me_ we're talking about. Not Malfoy. Have I ever let you down or given you any reason to doubt my judgment?"

"That's not-" he began, but she could see that his heart was no longer really invested in his argument, so she stepped forward and touched her hand lightly to his chest.

"Have I ever done _anything_ to break your trust in me?"

She could see Harry's doubts and suspicion start to crumble. She saw the thread of anger in his eyes snap and burn out as he looked to the floor in shame. She knew his temper was legendary and that it had gotten into many difficult situations, mostly with Snape or Malfoy actually. But he always did the right thing in the end when he finally saw through that red mist. She thought she heard him very faintly whisper the word _"no"_ as he stared at the floorboards with an expression of desolation.

But before Hermione could truly breathe a sigh of relief, that was the moment when things turned infinitely worse. A stiff spluttering sound could be heard in the shadows of the staircase and then the ginger head of Ron Weasley slowly emerged. His cheeks were flushed so dark the pinkish tinge was clashing with his hair. His ears were scarlet. And he was barely containing the shaking of his dangling fists as he stared at her in horror. Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, dreading what was coming next. She felt a jolt of nausea shoot down into her stomach and she wished with all her might that she was back inside the cramped, cosy room behind her. She wished she was still curled up with Draco in their own little world where all that mattered was seeking comfort against the pulsing heat of each other's bodies. Where he whispered sweet words into her ear and she brushed her fingers over his alabaster skin to calm his tormented thoughts.

Most of all she wished that Harry had just minded his own business. The last thing she wanted was to get Ron involved. If she wanted to sleep with Draco Malfoy then she would bloody well do it. She didn't need anyone to lecture her on who the enemy was.

But then she realised that Ron was a slightly different issue. He was looking at her like she'd slapped him in the face. His expression was twisted with jealousy. He would certainly take her actions much more personally. They had been dancing around each other for a while, neither one wanting to take the leap to get into something serious. Hermione wondered now whether they had ever stood a chance. It was true that she had certainly felt awkward and envious when he had been flaunting his relationship with Lavender Brown. But confusing her feelings throughout it all had been the memory of kissing Draco in fifth year. The intensity of that moment had left her breathless and quaking down to her toes. Hermione was certain that if she had felt even a fraction of that kind of longing for Ron she would have done something about it. Now it seemed she should have probably had a serious talk with him about it ages ago.

"Mione? You're _sleeping_ with that fucking Death Eater?" were the first words to come out of Ron's mouth, spittle flying from his lips. Hermione groaned in annoyance.

" _No_!"

Ron practically stomped his foot in his rage.

"Don't lie to me. I just heard Harry say that you were in his bed."

She felt her pulse race and she fiddled nervously with her locket.

"Well…yes, technically I was in his bed… but nothing happened…" she stammered, not really sure how to handle Ron. With Harry she had felt indignant and within her rights to scold him for his misconceptions. But Ron was likely to get really hurt, because unlike Harry his heart was on the line. His anger came from a place of jealousy.

"How could you, Mione?" he whispered in disgust, "Malfoy? Seriously? That evil piece of filth?"

"He's not…" she sighed and trailed off, not sure that defending Draco was going to win any battles in this situation. Ron would be determined to despise him no matter what. But at her tentative words he went a shade darker until his cheeks were almost purple, stepping up to stand shoulder to shoulder with Harry.

"He's not _what?"_ He paused, but when she didn't respond he continued, _"_ Tell me the truth. Do you fancy that evil git?"

Hermione remained silent. She knew the answer to his question of course, but saying it out loud to the boys in a moment of anger didn't feel right. It wasn't supposed to come out like that. And she'd only just accepted it recently herself. But her silence only confirmed his suspicion.

" _Bloody hell. You cannot be serious_ ," he was shouting now, and Hermione tried to stand steady and calm in the face of his rage, "After all this time, after everything you and I have been through, you choose _him?_ That slimy stuck up little ferret?"

She cleared her throat and raised her chin up high.

"I'm not stupid. I'm not merely going to jump into something with my eyes closed. You just don't know him like I do, so you can't possibly understand."

She stood her ground as Ron approached her, moving so close that she could feel the wild, hot air of his breath on his face, sharp from his panting. His eyes widened in stunned disbelief.

"I understand what it feels like to be stabbed in the back," he hissed and Hermione flinched a bit at the malice in his tone.

"It wasn't my intention to hurt anyone," she retorted stubbornly. Ron's body shook with barely restrained fury. She'd never seen him so unbridled.

" ** _That fucking son of a bitch tried to kill me!"_**

Hermione swallowed. A muscle twitched in her jaw as she contemplated the two boys before her in concern.

"He didn't try to kill you, Ron. He had no idea you would be the one to drink that wine. He was desperate and sca-"

"Don't give me that shit," Ron argued and she saw Harry look distinctly uncomfortable over his shoulder, "He's playing you. The only reason he's here now is because he's a fucking coward."

"He's here because he doesn't want to be a Death Eater. Doesn't that count for something?" she reasoned, her hands on her hips as her hopes for a resolution started to drift further and further away. A dull weight settled in her chest, one of dread and anguish.

"He's here because he wants to seduce you, Mione! He planned it all along, turning up out of the blue with your stupid bloody locket. And you just let him get away with it. Harry and I have talked about it, we both reckon he's still on their side. He's here on another mission."

Hermione looked towards Harry for confirmation but he couldn't meet her eye.

"Ron…" he began wearily, before trailing off and looking at the wall again with an expression of uncertainty. She felt a bit sick. She knew that Harry at least didn't really believe this. But she also knew how hard it was for him to stand up to Ron. He had never quite recovered from their fight in fourth year when the two boys had gone their separate ways for a while. The isolation had been too much for him. Harry had dealt with a lot of loneliness in his life, so naturally he clung to his friendship with Ron more than anything.

"What mission?" she challenged in a voice that somewhat resembled a growl.

"He's been sent here to turn you against us," Ron declared, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Hermione barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes at his ridiculous claim. But she did glare at both boys at the realisation that they'd been discussing her like this behind her back. Harry instantly flushed with guilt.

"You can't seriously believe that?" she asked, her eyes flicking between both her friends as disappointment clenched in her gut. Harry looked like he wanted to be anywhere else in the world right now.

"It's obvious isn't it?" Ron sneered and his face was truly looking a sickly purple colour now. He opened his mouth to speak again and she could tell from the expression on his face that he had lost it. Whatever he was about to say was going to be bad. Hermione had always been able to read the signs and know exactly when Ron would stick his big feet right in his mouth and lose control of his senses. It was one of his most unforgiving vices. He looked at her with vicious eyes and drawled, "We just never expected you'd be so willing to spread your legs-"

Hermione's chest seized in a convulsion of sadness at his words. She had known this was coming, she knew logically that he was being fed this cruelty by his jealousy at the thought of her with Malfoy when it was so clear that he was burning a candle for her himself. But unfortunately not everything was logical. Her heart still ached at the callous disregard for her feelings. In the corner of her eye she saw Harry's mouth drop open in surprise at his friend's words too.

Then, as if it wasn't already terrible enough, the one voice that was bound to tip everyone over the edge and make everything worse suddenly chimed in and Hermione spun around in alarm.

"You'd better shut your fucking mouth, Weasel."

Draco Malfoy was leaning in a deceptively casual stance against the doorframe of his room. But despite his laid-back body language and his serene tone of voice when he spoke, his grey eyes were positively burning.

 _Oh…holy…shit…_

On the surface it was the same pale haired boy she had gotten to know so well, the tender, sensitive one she had come to care very deeply for. But simmering there beneath the surface was a hint of their old Slytherin nemesis, proud and vicious and unforgiving. And he had murder written in his silvery stare. Hermione could only stare dumbstruck at him as his lips curled into a cold, threatening snarl.

Draco Malfoy was back with a vengeance.

 _…_ _._

 _…_ _._

 _…_ _._

When he woke up, Draco instantly knew that something was different. He blinked drowsily for a moment, taking in every detail of the room, but it looked the same. The bed next to him still carried the indent of Hermione's head on the pillow and the sheets were warm. They smelled softly of lavender and honey. Draco's lips twitched into a smile as he stretched his limbs out, enjoying the way his joints cracked. He propped his head up and peered around the room more closely. When it still appeared as though nothing was out of place, he spun his legs around to slip out of bed.

That was when he heard it.

There was a strange noise coming from outside the room. It sounded like raised voices that were muffled by the thick wooden door. Draco frowned in puzzlement. He couldn't usually hear anything going on outside the room. Hermione was more than willing to bend the rules where he was concerned, but when she left his room in the early morning, she still always remembered to recast the wards and charms keeping his room isolated. He didn't resent her for doing it. Draco had a feeling that she wasn't just obeying the Order, but that she was also trying to keep him safe and secure from anyone who might want to harm him. With a twinge of anxiety, Draco contemplated the door on the other side of the room. Slowly, he crept over and tilted his head very close so that he could hear what was going on more clearly.

There was definitely an argument happening outside, and he could distinguish Hermione's voice indistinctly through the door. She sounded calm enough, but there was an underlying tension in her voice that made the fine hairs on his spine prickle and stand up. Then another grating voice cut through hers and he curled his hands into fists. It was unmistakably that stupid oaf Ronald Weasley. Draco shuffled forwards to press his ear against the door, listening to the conversation outside. The ginger menace was accusing Hermione of stabbing him in the back. He rolled his eyes. What a wanker. Then he heard the ridiculous accusations that he was somehow trying to seduce her, and Draco's blood boiled with disgust. How could they have so little faith in their friend? She was without a doubt the most intelligent and compassionate person he knew. Even if he were trying to manipulate her, he would never be successful. She was much too loyal. She couldn't be turned from the ones she loved so easily, even if he had intended to try. And anyway, it sounded like they were doing a far better job themselves turning her against them than he ever could.

Draco pressed his hand against the door and felt for the vibrations of magic that would signify the usual wards sealing the room off from the outside world. But just like the silencing charms, they were missing. Maybe Hermione had been taken by surprise and didn't have time to recast them. Draco tentatively grasped the handle and tested it out. He felt it give a bit and he twisted until the door opened just a fraction. Inching forwards, he peered out through the gap and observed the scene before him. Weasley was the most prominent figure in the group, mostly because of his stupid orange hair and the matching bright flush of anger spread all over his face. Potter was lurking there too, his mouth turned down in a sad, guilty frown. Then he noticed Hermione, standing with her hands on her hips facing away from him. Her curls were still a bit wild and tousled from the night before. He couldn't see her face, but he could tell from the way she was holding her body so tensely that she was upset. Her foot was tapping nervously on the ground, a gesture so subtle he wouldn't have recognised it if he hadn't been studying her as intently as he had been for over a year. She was feeling hurt, and that made a wave of righteous anger swell up inside him, desperate to seek revenge on anyone who dared cause it. He had already brought her enough pain in his life so far. He would be damned if he allowed any more to occur if he could do anything about it.

As he opened the door wider, he watched with concern the way Weasley's pathetic face screwed up in an expression of petulant rage as the spit flew from his lips.

"We just never expected you'd be so willing to spread your legs-"

Draco felt his spine prickle at the horrible words. His stomach clenched with a sick feeling as he leaned into the wall next to him. A cold, fearsome expression overtook his features as his face stiffened and turned menacing.

"You'd better shut your fucking mouth, Weasel."

His eyes were staring daggers into Weasley's, enjoying the look of abject horror there. But he was distracted the moment that Hermione spun around to look at him. She seemed so vulnerable, and it shook him to his core. He loved how strong she was, how she could handle anything that came her way. But it was very different when it was your own friends you had to stand up to.

He stared intently into her round, bottomless brown eyes to ascertain that she was okay. But it was this momentary distraction that made him drop his defences. As he shuffled forwards slightly to check on Hermione, he didn't notice Weasley barrel forwards. When he realised the moron was flying at him, Draco's first instinct was to reach down for his wand. But it wasn't there. Of course it wasn't, they'd taken it away from him. His gut reaction was to cast a shield charm or respond magically, but he had forgotten in the rush of activity that he had been stripped of his wand and was no better than a muggle.

The fist seemed to come out of nowhere. The punch lacked any finesse of course. Even in a brawl Weasley was a clumsy fuckwit. It hit his jaw lopsided and made a crunching sound. He heard Hermione gasp at the same time as he felt the slight sting of pain. Draco reeled back into the wall, but recovered fairly quickly. It really wasn't a particularly hard punch. He wiped casually at his chin and cocked his head to the side.

"Is that the best you've got?"

Weasley was shaking with rage as he stood there dumbly, his fists swinging at his side. Potter had moved forward with an expression of slight shock to stand behind him, holding his friend back from inflicting any more damage.

"Why don't you crawl back into your room like the cowardly little snake that you are, Malfoy!" the red head spat.

"How original. Calling me a snake. I never would have thought of that one," Draco drawled, pleased that the attention was on him now so that the idiot didn't keep insulting Hermione.

"Shut your mouth, Death Eater! We know what you're up to!"

"Ron!" Hermione cried with an expression of outrage.

Draco stepped forward a couple of paces so that he was nose to nose with the ginger menace. He snarled at him and gave him a withering look.

"You really are as dumb as you are useless, Weasel. I heard your pathetic little accusations before. Are you honestly that stupid?"

"Shove off, Malfoy. Get out of me face."

"You really think that abandoning everyone I know and risking my life, throwing myself into the hands of your pathetic Order was all part of some great big ploy to get into your friend's pants?"

"How should I know? You're the evil wanker here."

"You sure sounded more confident about it when you were accusing Granger a second ago."

Weasley blustered a bit, puffing his chest up and trying to make himself seem bigger than he actually was. He might be tall but he was a scrawny freckled git. He didn't stand a chance.

"Just keep your filthy hands off her, Malfoy."

"Why? Are you worried that I'm going to steal your girl?" Weasley opened and closed his mouth a few times like a bloated fish and Draco almost rolled his eyes at how easy it was to rile him up. He sighed and continued in a low, dangerous tone, "Well I've got news for you, Weasel. Firstly, she's not your girl. And secondly, I'm pretty sure that no power on this earth could tell Granger what to do."

The other boy looked a bit stunned for a moment as he grappled for his next argument.

"You've probably imperiused her or something!"

Draco actually rolled his eyes and groaned. Behind them he saw Potter shake his head a bit in bewilderment. Clearly he thought his friend was going a bit far with his reasoning.

"Bravo Weasley. You beat your own record for sounding like an imbecile. How exactly am I supposed to curse her when I don't have a wand?"

"I dunno, maybe you stole one…"

"And even if I did have a wand," Draco continued in a dry voice, "Unlike you, I'm not actually stupid enough to curse Hermione Granger, am I? I'd probably end up on my ass hexed six ways from Sunday. She's a bloody lioness."

"Stop talking about her like you give a damn about her!"

Hermione chose that moment to stomp her foot and groan in frustration at their display of animosity.

"Will you both stop talking about me like I'm not here?"

Ron turned to look at her with narrowed eyes. He was staring at her like she was a stranger to him.

"He's Death Eater scum, Mione! Just like he was at school. Remember the names he used to call you? Why can't you see that he hasn't changed?"

"He has," she argued fiercely, a stubborn scowl on her face, "If you'd just calm down and stop acting like a blast-ended skrewt then we could talk about this rationally. You don't even know him."

Draco's eyes met hers over Weasley's shoulder and his gaze softened a bit at the hint of concern painted there. A look of understanding passed between them. She didn't want any more conflict and this was killing her. With a relenting sigh, he started to take a subtle step back from the ginger haired boy, knowing that she was the one who needed to deal with this situation in her own pacifying way. That was his intention, anyway. But then Weasley opened his dumb mouth again and when he spoke his stare was as cold and spiteful as the grave.

"I know exactly who he is. He's Daddy's little murderer. Your father must be so proud, ferret."

Draco felt a tremor of anguish pass through him, a fairly common reaction to any mention of Lucius these days. His casual façade cracked and his cheeks flushed pink. Hermione gave a little moan of pity and her eyes widened as she watched his visceral response to the comment take over him. With a short, sharp jab he punched the ginger haired boy in the nose with deadly accuracy, hearing and feeling the crunch under his knuckles. It was a significantly more effective hit than Weasel's, he thought coldly, watching the useless twat grab at his face and howl in pain as blood spurted from his nose.

He went to grab Weasley by the throat, his fingers shaking, wanting nothing more than to wring the life out of him with his bare hands. But then suddenly the tip of a wand was pointed right in his face and he froze. Potter had raised it in front of him, looking nervously between his friend and the blond Slytherin. Draco took a tentative step back so that the wood wasn't pressing against his skin, raising his hands with a mocking bow of surrender.

"Harry! Please don't," Hermione called out to her friend in a horrified tone, stepping forwards to intervene but not sure what she could do. But Potter was looking around fairly calmly, and he seemed to take a few deep breaths as his friend whimpered in the background, trying to stem the blood flowing from his nostrils.

"I think Hermione's right," Potter said slowly, exchanging a careful, comforting glance with the curly haired girl, "I think we should just…"

But before he could finish, a spell vibrated sharply across the group, reverberating around the small space and bringing them all down to their knees. The wand flew from Potter's hand and landed in the grasp of Minerva McGonagall.

"Enough!" she announced into the small corridor as they all huddled on the floor in surprise, "I will not have you all duelling like a group of hot-headed first years."

The boys tried to open their mouths to argue with their head of house, but she had clearly silenced them as well as disarming them.

"Hermione, what in Godric's name is going on here?" she asked sternly, and the girl blushed under her scrutiny.

"Um…just a… small disagreement, Professor."

Minerva glared at them all one by one, and they cowered under the intensity of her scowl. She was a pretty fearsome lady when she wanted to be, Draco thought. Finally she looked back to her star pupil and released the freezing charm with a whip of her wand. Weasley was still clutching his face and whining. He was such a wimp, Draco thought sullenly to himself. The older woman observed them carefully over the rim of her glasses for a little while longer and then spoke again in a steady voice that brooked no room for discussion.

"Take Mister Malfoy back to his room, Hermione. I believe Molly Weasley can find something useful for these two dunderheads to do in the kitchen."

The girl nodded hurriedly, moving to do as her mentor ordered with impressive efficiency. She gently helped him up off the ground and ushered him back inside so fast he barely had time to flinch at the pain in his jaw from that stupid clumsy punch. He felt a trickle of satisfaction that he'd inflicted a lot more damage himself.

As she grasped the door handle, he saw Hermione share a last, slightly despairing look with Potter whose face was now crumpled up in an equally miserable expression. Then he was cut off and the door was sealed shut behind her. He watched with no small amount of anxiety as she concentrated on re-erecting the wards and charms on the room. She seemed overly focused on her task and her shoulders were tense again. The same foot was tapping against the floor like crazy.

"Your friends are total wankers," he commented bluntly, still seething from their argument, "Where do they get off criticising you for something that's none of their bloody business? And I swear to Salazar if that ugly freckled git says anything foul like that to you again-"

His voice faded a bit when he saw that Granger wasn't even really listening to him. She was holding her wand to the door and casting a few extra charms on it, but her hand was shaking so hard she was having a difficult time keeping it steady. Instantly his anger crumbled, to be replaced only be a wave of concern at this sign of vulnerability.

"Uh…Granger?" he asked tentatively, moving up to stand behind her.

"Not now, Draco," she responded tightly, putting the finishing touches on her casting before finally she turned to face him.

And then it was just the two of them alone in the eerie silence of the room, and he found that he didn't know what he was supposed to say. Clearly his anger would not achieve anything here, that's not what she wanted. He saw the shadow of distress in her gaze and the pallid skin of her face and his heart clenched in sorrow. Reaching out a hand very slowly he brushed his knuckles against her cheek, watching her closely.

"Are you okay?" he murmured so softly he wasn't sure she'd heard him. And that was all it took for the dam to break. She blinked a few times as her eyes swam with tears and then she was falling forwards into his waiting arms and sobbing against his chest.

Once the initial shock passed, Draco let her cry for a long time, just murmuring nonsense into her hair. He lowered them both to the ground, and she shuddered, pressing her weight against him. He rocked her back and forth a bit, rubbing his hand over her back. He'd never really given someone comfort like this before. He wasn't sure he was doing it right, but this is what he saw other people doing sometimes back at school. At home growing up crying was always a terrible weakness and everyone just told him to bottle things up. But he thought maybe he was doing okay, since he felt her slowly relaxing against his body. She'd comforted him like this after his nightmares, very tender and quiet, and it always soothed his frayed nerves.

He couldn't imagine what it was like fighting with friends as close as them. He'd never really had any friends he cared about enough to even bother fighting with them at all. He felt the front of his shirt cling to his skin a bit as her tears soaked through the material, and he grimaced at her pain. When her tears finally petered off and he heard her release a few gentle hiccoughs, Draco shifted his legs slightly beneath him. It wasn't exactly comfortable on the floor, after all. Making a quick decision, he hoisted her up into his arms, marvelling at how little she actually weighed, and carried her over to the bed. Contemplating the small space, Draco slid across until he sat upright against the headboard, propping Hermione up between his legs, her back to his chest. He kept his arms around her and she slowly melted against him.

"I'm sorry, Granger," he began, murmuring softly into her ear, "I never meant to come between you and your friends."

"I know," she croaked quietly, tilting her head to mumble the words into his chest, her breath hot against his skin. It felt different. He realised it was the first time they'd really been together like this when it wasn't pitch black and they weren't half-asleep, "I'm sorry Ron hit you."

Draco snorted in disdain at the reminder of the so-called punch, and he felt the tugging of a smile on her lips where they rested near his heart. They were silent for a while, just matching each other's breathing, before Hermione spoke again.

"Can we just stay here?"

Draco smiled, reaching up to hesitantly run his fingers across her silky curls in a soothing gesture just like she'd done for him after his nightmares.

"For how long?"

He thought she wasn't going to answer, since her body had become fairly boneless against him. But then he heard the barest hint of her voice mumbling against his shirt so quietly he almost missed it.

"Forever."

A tingling of something happy and soft crept pleasantly up his spine and infused warmth into his entire body.

"Sounds good to me," he replied quietly. Shifting his arms slightly, Draco enfolded her more tightly in his embrace and rested his cheek against her hair. Hermione's breathing had slowed and he thought that maybe she was falling asleep. Even though she had only recently woken to leave his room, the stress of the argument and her convulsive crying had drained her to the point of exhaustion.

"Hermione?" he murmured, and heard her hum questioningly in response, blinking owlishly up at him. Fuck he wanted to kiss her so bad. But the timing was all wrong. She was tired and distraught. He smirked down at her instead, gazing into her drowsy brown eyes, and thought about how much he had learned about her just in the last couple of weeks. And not just from playing their little game, but from allowing her in past the prickly walls he'd spent years building around himself. He was actually seeing _her_ for who she really was and he was letting her see him, flaws and all, in return. Ever since fifth year he had been watching her and thinking about her for so long he had been worried he'd created some kind of false mirage in his mind just to cope with everything. But this felt so real now. So tangible. And the reality was a thousand times better than the dream he'd been obsessing over. He took a shaky breath and spoke in a hushed tone.

"I've thought of a new question you can ask me."

Hermione's lips stretched into a lazy smile even as her eyelids drooped.

"Hmmm? What is it? Favourite Wëird Sister?"

Draco chuckled, running his fingers over her hair again and enjoying the weight of her heavy curls in his hand.

"Well obviously it's Kirley Duke on lead guitar, but that wasn't what I had in mind," Draco answered wryly. Hermione grinned and tilted her head patiently, waiting for him to continue, "You should ask me what my biggest regret is."

Her smile faded a bit at the seriousness of the question but he nodded encouragingly at her to go ahead so she took a deep breath.

"Draco, what's your biggest regret?" she whispered blearily into his chest, watching him with those big brown eyes, heavy and clouded, on the verge of sleep. He stared at a crack in the wood on the window pane next to them for a long moment before he answered, meeting her eye again with an intensity that made her shiver.

"My biggest regret is that, after that night in the hospital wing, I didn't just kidnap you and run away with you before any of this mess began."

Hermione was silent for a while, and he wondered if he had upset her, but then she smiled sadly at him. She burrowed closer into his warmth and let out a deep breath against his neck.

"Sounds good to me," she echoed his words from earlier, and his heart swelled. And as he watched her slip into a deep, dreamless sleep, he thought to himself that he would do anything to hold onto this perfect moment, even if it meant trying to make nice with her stupid friends. He would actually go out there right now and apologize to the troll-brained git for punching him if he had to. If that's what it takes he'll do it, he thought. He just wanted to stay here holding this powerful, fragile girl in his arms. _Forever,_ she'd murmured softly into his chest. And that was more than all right with him.

….

….

….

She wasn't sure what had woken her, but when she came to it was pitch black outside. Between sleeping and talking about nothing in Draco's arms all day, it had somehow become night again. Hermione eased herself from the blond Slytherin's embrace, reluctant to leave the warmth of his arms. Her fingers lingered over his pale skin for a few more seconds before she rose and turned towards the door. The wards yielded to her touch and she slipped from the room like a ghost. She wouldn't normally leave and use the bathrooms outside, preferring to stay within the confines of Draco's room and his small toilette. But something was prodding at her and calling her away as if she was being pulled along by a thread. She crept through the silent house and around two corners, her feet creaking on icy floorboards.

Finally she came to the rickety old staircase that spiralled up through the middle of the building. She glanced up and decided to go and check upstairs. Something wasn't right and it was gnawing at her inside. When she emerged into a new hallway at the top of the stairs she stared numbly at the speck of light before her. Moonlight fell in a small patch on the door to Harry and Ron's room, which was propped slightly ajar. Feeling an aching sense of dread in her chest she glided forwards on bare feet. Her hand reached out and gently pushed it open. It made an almighty groaning sound on its hinges as she stepped inside the room.

It was empty.

There was no sign of either boy within the decrepit walls of their room. The two beds were rumpled but empty. The draws were askew, as if cleared in a hurry. None of the usual piles of clothes lay scattered about. As she stumbled forwards to stand in the centre of the room, Hermione's desperate eyes sought out the one thing that she knew should be there no matter what. The one item that followed Harry everywhere. The snitch he'd won in his first Quidditch match. The one Dumbeldore left him. He always kept it propped on his bedside table or near his pillow at all times, cherishing it and obsessing mindlessly over Dumbeldore's final message.

But it was gone.

The absence of that snitch confirmed her worst fears and Hermione choked on a lungful of air as she gasped. They'd left, she realised with a wave of panic, spinning to look urgently around the room in helpless despair. They'd packed their bags and snuck away in the middle of the night to continue their mission to find horcruxes. Ron even had the tent, she realised with a pitiful moan as she suddenly remembered leaving it inside his bag a week earlier. They had deserted her.

Hermione released an involuntary whimper that seemed unnaturally loud inside the empty room. She felt her legs tremble unsteadily and she dropped to her knees on the dusty floorboards. Taking in more deep, gasping breaths of air, she stared in horror at the emptiness surrounding her. Her brain was foggy from panting too hard and spots blurred her vision.

 _They've left me behind. They're gone…._

And with that thought echoing like a taunt on repeat in her mind, Hermione felt the room spin underneath her as she fainted.

….

….

….

….

 **Woah, so much just happened. I don't even know what you're going to say. I promise I have plans and a direction for where this is going!** ** _Please review_** **and let me know what you think.**


	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

 **Back for more? Lots of responses to the last chapter! I've been pretty mean with my cliff hangers. Time for the fallout from the last one. As always, JKR is the fabulous creator.**

Hermione woke to a blurry indistinct shape looming above her. She blinked a few times until the face of Minerva McGonagall materialised into view. The stern older woman was watching her nervously, peering down through her glasses with a sympathetic expression.

"Hermione? Are you alright?"

"What…Where…?"

She shot upright as she got her bearings again. Her tongue felt swollen and too hot inside her mouth and it took a while for her brain to start working enough to register where she was. She had been moved back to her own bed at some point, still in her pyjamas. A frown marred her face as she remembered what had happened.

"Harry and Ron…"

Minerva placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. She offered her a glass of water, which Hermione gratefully seized and gulped down. It helped sooth the dizziness away.

"It appears as though Potter and Weasley are gone. We found _this_ on the bedside table near where you had collapsed…"

The older woman didn't look overly thrilled to be giving her the piece of paper she was holding up. She was watching Hermione warily as though the girl might vomit or something. She certainly felt rather flushed. But Hermione grabbed at the paper and ripped it open, seeing that it was a letter written it Harry's messy, blockish handwriting. She took a shaky breath and exchanged a fearful glance with her former professor, before focusing on the words in front of her.

 _Dear Hermione,_

 _I'm sorry I don't really know what to say here. I'm a bit lost for words. Ron is looking at me impatiently but I didn't want to leave without letting you know what's happening. It was a pretty big shock realising how close you and Malfoy had become. I was worried about him taking advantage of you, but you seem pretty, well, determined._

 _I thought maybe it was like SPEW or something. You were supporting the downtrodden, poor little Death Eater. But I don't know. When I heard him defending you, he seemed pretty genuine. So basically I'm really confused._

 _I think that maybe we are going down separate paths at the moment. I think your place is here and mine is out looking for more 'you know what'. And that's okay. I think it will take Ron a long time to recover from this. He really does like you. I don't think you realise how much he's hurting. So we're just going to go off on our own for a bit, to give him some space and finish our job. I don't know how we'll manage without you, maybe it's crazy and suicidal to even try! But I will contact you using our DA galleon if we need you, and you can do the same. Ron's mad but he'll still have your back. And I'll always come if you call._

 _Take care of yourself and be on your guard. I still don't trust him and I don't think he's good enough for you. You're going to be furious when you realise we're gone. But please forgive me. You're like a sister to me and no matter what I love you._

 _I'm sorry._

 _Be careful._

 _Harry._

Hermione delicately folded the note in half and then slipped it under her pillow, angrily wiping away her tears. She sniffed inelegantly and gingerly took the handkerchief that Minerva offered her. As she blew into it and got control over her crying, the older woman summoned some clothes from the musty old wardrobe in the corner and carefully laid them out on the bed.

"Those stupid, selfish wankers," Hermione croaked half-heartedly, not even able to summon the energy to yell or scream or throw things around the room like she probably should. It was like all the rage had just drained out of her.

"Sensitivity has never been Mister Potter's strength."

Hermione stared glumly at a tangle of cobwebs strung up in one corner of the room.

"I can't believe they actually left," she murmured, earning another supportive pat on the shoulder. Harry was right to worry about whether the two of them by themselves could even survive without her. She knew they could both be very impetuous and hot headed when they didn't take the time to slow down and consider the consequences of their actions. As demonstrated by their sudden decision to leave in the middle of the night. She could only hope that they wouldn't do anything too foolish. But she highly doubted it.

"There'll be time for mourning later, Hermione. Now you need to grit your teeth, get changed and come downstairs."

Her eyes flickered up to her mentor's in surprise at the words.

"What's happening?" she asked with an edge of anxiety. Minerva let out a soft tut and gestured insistently at the clothes. Hermione scooped them up and threw the jumper on over the top of her t-shirt.

"Let's just say there are certain people in the Order who want to ask you some questions."

Hermione groaned.

"Because of Harry and Ron?"

Minerva nodded.

"I'm sorry…"

Hermione waved off her apology, knowing that the former Head of Gryffindor had probably done everything she could already. She rolled her eyes at the thought that she was probably going to be subjected to some kind of useless interrogation. The Order had never been comfortable with the fact that the three of them had disappeared to go do a secret task for Dumbledore. Molly had been adamantly opposed to it; Remus and Harry had almost come to blows over him being left out. And the others were reluctant to trust three such young danger-magnets wandering off through the countryside on some private mission with every Death Eater in the country searching for them.

"Alright, fine. Let them know I'm coming down," she sighed. Minerva gave her one last grimace of sympathy before exiting the room. Hermione closed her eyes for a moment. She silently cursed herself for being so naïve as to think her happiness this last week could ever last without interference. Then she cursed the Order for being a bunch of insufferable busy-bodies. And finally she cursed Harry and Ron for abandoning her and leaving her to clean up their mess.

So by the time she had finished getting changed, Hermione was officially fuming. She strode downstairs ready to confront anyone who dared question her at a time like this and for such a stupid reason. As she entered the kitchen, her eyes were narrowed in a glare for the few occupants sitting around the table. They observed her silently, with stares of suspicion and trepidation. In addition to Minerva, there were one or two friendly smiles that cut through the tension and helped to relax her shoulders somewhat. Andromeda and Ted Tonks were leaning against a nearby counter chatting quietly. The dark haired woman gave her an encouraging smile as she slid into a spare seat that seemed to have been placed deliberately to intimidate her. Surrounding her at the table were Remus, Molly, Arthur, Kingsley, Bill Weasley and a few others who she only recognised vaguely, such as Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle.

Hermione cleared her throat, arching one eyebrow expectantly at the gathered group and folding her arms in front of her chest. She felt a little petty, but wasn't prepared to cave to their little attempt at bullying information out of her. There was a long, awkward silence before finally Remus cleared his throat and locked his fingers together in what she assumed was supposed to be a serious, firm expression.

"Where are Harry and Ron?" he asked straight away, obviously not bothering to make any small talk or build up to the big question of the day. Hermione barely suppressed another eye-roll as she returned his stare with her own cold one.

"I don't know."

Remus gave her a slightly patronising look.

"Come now, Hermione. You don't seriously expect us to believe that they would leave and not tell you where they were going?"

"Well that's what happened. Believe it or not."

Remus blinked at her, leaning forwards slightly and fixing her with a steady scowl.

"You must have some idea where they are?"

"Nope."

"Please tell us, Hermione," Molly begged from beside the werewolf, her eyes round and pleading, "You three slipped through our fingers once and we had hoped…" she sighed, knotting her fingers together, "We hoped that you would trust us this time. Tell us where they are. We can help you."

"I'm sorry, Molly, but I honestly don't know."

"There must be some place that's familiar they would return to."

"They could be anywhere in England right now," she admitted in a cautious voice, looking around a bit warily at the anxious faces there, "We never followed a particular pattern or had any destination set in our minds when we moved."

Molly looked genuinely desperate with worry, her lip quivering a bit.

"But you're all just children-"

Hermione felt her skin prickle a bit at the comment.

"No, Mrs Weasley, we're not. Dumbledore gave Harry a task. He trusted us. So I'm sorry but to be brutally honest even if I did know where the boys were, I still wouldn't tell you."

There were a few angry murmurs and sneering at this last response. Hermione felt an ache deep inside her belly at the reminder of what she had lost. It seemed unnecessarily cruel to make her face up to the reality of it all so soon. Remus appeared inordinately interested in her answers. He observed her with quiet suspicion for a long moment before he spoke again. This time his voice was low and accusing,

"So is it true then? They left you here because of the Malfoy boy?"

Hermione felt a twist in her gut. She stared at the group surrounding her in surprise.

"What?" she asked belligerently, feeling suddenly concerned about the direction this was taking.

Remus nodded towards Bill Weasley who cleared his throat and spoke a bit uncomfortably.

"The boys stopped in at Shell cottage early this morning. I think they were getting supplies. I heard them speaking in the kitchen, but didn't realise what was happening at the time. Ron was just going on about how he couldn't believe that you had chosen Malfoy over him…" There were wary glances exchanged between a few people. Hermione's eyes flickered up to the side of the room where Andromeda stood, feeling a bit cautious now. But Draco's aunt just nodded reassuringly at her. She didn't look surprised at all. It gave Hermione some small measure of comfort, knowing that at least one person wasn't here on behalf of Team Ron. Bill continued in a soft tone, "I was going to confront them and ask them what was happening, but they left quite suddenly. Then when I came here and we saw their room upstairs with you on the floor and Harry's note… "

Hermione bristled in anger, sitting up straighter in her seat.

"You read the note?"

"Of course we did," Remus told her unsympathetically, "It was important."

"It was addressed to _me._ "

Remus shook his head at her, his gaze critical.

"This is war, Hermione. And undesirable number one Harry Potter has once again thrown himself into unspeakable danger…"

"It was private," she argued back just as stubbornly. She cursed Harry all over again for not thinking to put a charm on the letter to keep it from prying eyes. "And it didn't even say where they were going…"

Remus drummed his fingers impatiently on the table.

"Maybe not. But it did tell us other things. Like the fact that you have begun a relationship with Mister Malfoy."

"That's not even-" Hermione trailed off and sighed in frustration, wondering why she even bothered arguing the point. They would all believe it even if she denied it. And they weren't entirely wrong. She would be totally naïve if she didn't at least admit to herself that she and Draco had formed some kind of attachment. She had probably been falling for him for over a year now. It didn't help that she had probably blushed crimson the moment his name was brought up. Molly looked a bit white as she gave her a disapproving frown. The Weasley matriarch had always been quick to judge her for any hint that she would get romantically involved with someone other than Harry or Ron. It had been the same way even back in fourth year with Krum.

"Tell me it's not true, Hermione."

Hermione returned her gaze calmly.

"Does it matter? Harry and Ron were always going to leave eventually, with or without me. I fail to see how it bears any significance whether or not Draco was involved in the decision."

Kingsley Shacklebolt chimed in then, his deep voice resonating around the room clearly.

"Until very recently, Malfoy was a Death Eater, Hermione. Whether you like it or not, it is very serious issue. You were assigned as his handler and any entanglement could ultimately compromise the information he gives us."

Hermione looked sharply around at all the determined faces before her. Kingsley's voice had sounded too calm, too reasonable for this to be a true debate. That was when it hit her. This whole interrogation was a formality and nothing else. They had already decided how to proceed long before she arrived in the kitchen, she realised. This whole meeting was merely to ascertain whether she knew the whereabouts of the boys. An uneasy feeling crept up her spine, which only intensified when she saw the way Andromeda and Minerva exchanged a mournful glance with each other.

"Enough," she said in a quiet, tense voice, "I'm not going to sit here and be denigrated about something that's none of your damned business," her angry declaration was met with glowers and complaining grumbles of those gathered before her. But she took a deep breath and continued on, "Tell me what you have decided. I don't know where the boys are and I'm tired of repeating myself. So let's get this farce over and done with."

"Hermione-" Molly seemed like she wanted to say something more, but she eventually just shook her head and fell silent, her eyes full of wordless recrimination. Hermione just held her chin up high and waited patiently. Remus exchanged looks with those around him.

"We're moving Malfoy to another location. Somewhere he'll be relatively harmless and can't cause any more problems. He can concentrate on just compiling information about the Death Eaters with a new handler."

Hermione felt an icy shiver run down her spine as her body stiffened in outrage. She had been half-expecting it, but still felt unsettled by the announcement. She imagined them going upstairs and telling Draco about this new decision. Her chest clenched tightly in agony. He would completely panic. He was likely to go mental when he heard the news. And she wasn't dealing with it much better herself, despite her composed exterior. She thought of all the nights they had spent wrapped in each other's arms. Days spent learning everything about the other person. A year of thinking of that kiss in the hospital wing and yearning for something more even if she hadn't been willing to accept it yet. To be torn apart when their bond was just beginning to grow, when it felt like they were at the precipice of something real, was a cruelty she couldn't even fathom. But outwardly she just blinked calmly a couple of times, not willing to let them see that they'd gotten to her.

"Is that necessary?" she asked coldly, her pulse racing even though she didn't show it. Kingsley nodded and spread his hands out in front of him.

"You must surely see how vital it is to keep Malfoy contained and submissive. We can't have him thinking that he can take advantage of the situation."

Hermione stared into the faces of those who were determined to treat Draco as nothing more than a pawn. The people who might possibly hold the fate of the wizarding world in their hands. She could certainly see where their dogmatic attitude had come from and even empathise with it. But unfortunately in this case they were grossly mistaken. They didn't see Draco the way she did, and the departure of Harry and Ron had put everyone on edge. Their precious Chosen One was missing again, and as far as they were concerned the Slytherin boy was to blame. Hermione took a few deep breaths. Andromeda wouldn't meet her eye now, her head drooping sorrowfully as she stared at the floor. She had the weary look of someone who had already fought and lost. Hermione could only imagine what had transpired before she arrived. Distantly she realised that Minerva was now objecting quite strenuously to this new announcement, but she only half listened. There was really no point. She could argue until she was blue in the face but it wouldn't make a difference.

Suddenly all she wanted was to talk to Draco, to warn him about what was coming and to reassure him that everything would be okay. She needed to go to him before they denied her the right to even be anywhere near him. What if they snuck him out of the house before she had a chance to say goodbye? Hermione's mind worked furiously, thinking of what lay ahead and knowing only one thing for certain. She had to see him. Lifting her eyes again, she feigned an accepting grimace, appearing demure and remorseful. She even shrugged her shoulders slightly as if she had conceded defeat. It was a very convincing performance.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this..." she watched surreptitiously as the others nodded encouragingly. She noticed Minerva looking a bit flummoxed at her sudden change in demeanour but everyone else seemed to buy it, "If you don't mind, I need to go lie down now. It's been a long night. I'll let you know if I hear from Harry or Ron."

Molly grimaced sympathetically; she was still looking a bit miffed that her ickle Ronniekins had disappeared again. But they all murmured their agreement that she could take her leave. Remus had an expression of tired relief on his face that she had surrendered so easily. Hermione forced herself to smile gratefully at him and then got wearily to her feet. As she made her way to the door she shared a significant look with Andromeda. By her side, Ted Tonks also nodded once at her, giving her a little wink, and she knew they understood where she was going.

Heart pounding now, Hermione slipped from the room. Her skin was clammy and her tongue felt like hot ash in her mouth. Taking a deep breath, she headed straight for the staircase that wound up through the house, cutting a determined path towards Draco's room.

The only problem was that she had absolutely no bloody clue what she was supposed to say to him when she got there.

….

….

….

Draco knew that something was terribly wrong. He knew it with a certainty that was eating away at him. He kept pacing his small room, eyes flicking over to the door expectantly and wishing for it to open. When he had woken earlier the bed beside him had been cold to touch; Hermione must have left earlier than usual. Personally he had been hoping that she wouldn't leave at all, not after how things had started developing between them. At first he was ashamed to admit that he had been a bit sulky. But as time passed he began to grow anxious. It wasn't like her to stay away so long.

Finally, after what seemed like an age, he felt the vibrations of her wards shift around the door, and Hermione entered at a hurried pace. Her movements were a little frantic and she had a panicked glint in her eye. His heart skipped with trepidation as he watched her take a few deep breaths and turn towards him. Draco waited for her to speak, his hands clenching into fists and then unclenching rhythmically. He wasn't known for his patience. And her fearful expression was setting him on edge.

"I…they…"

She stammered a few times before falling silent, giving him a beseeching look as if she wasn't sure what she was supposed to say. Draco was truly worried now. She looked a bit wild. Her hair was tousled madly around her shoulders and her bottom lip was swollen and red as if she had been chewing on it. He swallowed and took a step towards her.

"What's wrong? What is it?"

Hermione shook her head and folded her arms across her chest self-consciously. He approached carefully, moving slowly so he wouldn't scare her, and rested his hand on her arm.

"Hermione?"

Eventually her body shivered and she let out a rasping breath of air.

"Harry and Ron left. They ran away during the night."

Draco blinked and stared at her in disbelief.

"Wha…seriously? They _left_? Why?"

"We had a task to complete… something Dumbledore wanted us to do. I'm sorry I can't tell you what it is. So they left to continue our mission."

"Okay," he responded slowly, his brain spinning with this new information. Hermione was staring at a spot on the floor, looking desolate, "But they left without _you_? Are they mad? They won't survive a week."

Hermione lifted her eyes to glare at him, but then her shoulders sort of just sagged and she sniffled slightly.

"They didn't want me with them anymore," she murmured fatalistically, and Draco wanted to grind his teeth in frustration at the actions of her two supposed friends. A niggling doubt took hold in his stomach, making him feel slightly nauseous.

"They left you here because of _me_ , didn't they?" he asked her quietly, his hand twitching and gripping down hard on her arm. Hermione couldn't meet his eye but eventually she nodded.

"Yes."

Draco winced at the knowledge that he was partly responsible for her pain. While obviously he blamed the dunderhead duo for being such selfish wankers, he couldn't deny his role in the whole fiasco. And yet despite the heartache that had occurred, he still couldn't bring himself to regret anything that had happened. He had finally gotten to see the real Hermione after chasing a dream for months. He would never want to take that back. Rubbing his thumb over the skin of her forearm, he cleared his throat and shuffled closer so that he could speak more intimately to her.

"Are you okay?"

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip but nodded.

"Yes. Or at least, I'm trying to be," she paused nervously, and Draco waited and watched her drawn, tense features as she considered her next words, "But after I found them missing…" Hermione groaned and dropped her head into her hands, "The Order had to go and shove their big noses into it, and things kind of went from bad to worse."

Draco's heart skipped with apprehension.

"What happened?"

Hermione pulled away from him, moving to pace across the other side of the room near the bed. She had tangled her fingers in her hair and refused to meet his eye. She looked desperate, and it made Draco's gut roll over uneasily.

"Hermione?" he prompted, and she groaned frantically, clearly not wanting to reveal the terrible truth.

"They…they know why Harry and Ron left. And I guess they're worried about… _us,_ " she finally admitted in a reluctant whisper. Draco swallowed and followed her movements warily with his gaze. He could easily guess what had the Order going crazy.

"About me corrupting you, you mean."

Hermione snorted pitifully.

"Something like that."

When she didn't continue, Draco frowned and considered what she was hinting at. If there was one thing that bothered those bastards who tried interrogating him early on, it was the fact that he refused to speak to anyone but Hermione. It made them uncomfortable. And if their precious Chosen One had been threatened by his presence here…

His mind froze as he realised the implications. He stared at Hermione in disbelief as she continued to pace furiously back and forth. His mouth was dry and a clammy sweat had begun to form on his palms, clenched now into fists.

" _No…_ " When she still didn't look at him, Draco took two brisk steps over the room towards her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around to face him, "Hermione, please tell me they're not going to make you stay away from me-"

Her face was stark white as she blinked and stared blindly at a spot on his chest.

"They want to move you to a different safe house," she muttered so quietly he almost missed it. Draco didn't want to believe what she was telling him, and he didn't like that she still wouldn't look him in the eye. He grasped her shoulders more tightly and leaned closer, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"But you're coming with me, right? Or you can still visit me…"

Her expression was despairing as she shook her head in the negative. He felt his fingers clench convulsively around her upper arms and he let out a shaky breath. Hermione closed her eyes as if in pain.

"No Draco. They want to separate us."

He shook his head numbly, his mind unable to cope with the thought of losing her now, when he was just starting to appreciate how deeply he'd fallen for her. When he felt like he almost had a chance with her.

"I…I won't let them," he croaked, his voice stumbling a bit over the words, "I'll refuse to go."

Hermione's eyelashes fluttered as she blinked back the tears that were suddenly glistening in her eyes.

"You know that's not possible. It's not like they're going to ask your permission."

"I'll cause a bloody riot if I have to!" he yelled, making her flinch a bit at his rapidly escalating anger, "I'll refuse to help them or give any more information until they change their mind!"

"Could you really do that?" she asked quietly, her tone resigned, "Could you really jeopardize this whole war just to get your way?"

"You're damn right I could!"

Hermione almost stomped her foot at him, her hair crackling manically.

"No, Draco! What if you could save more lives? Like you saved Ted Tonks. Despite what they might think, I know the real you. You could never refuse them that kind of help for such selfish reasons."

Draco's face flushed with a mixture of rage and shame, looking down into her soulful brown eyes and feeling a twinge of real fear now.

"I've told them everything I know anyway," he muttered crossly.

"I don't like this any more than you do, Draco!" she replied in an eerily composed voice. He gave her shoulders a little shake, wanting to ruffle her feathers even just slightly.

"How can you be so calm about this? Don't you care?"

"Of course I care. But there's nothing we can do. I just came here to warn you and to say goodbye…"

Draco released her abruptly and strode across to the mantle on the wall. He leaned against it, his body trembling with fear as he contemplated what was about to happen. She would really be gone and forbidden from seeing him. No more chats through the day about every seemingly insignificant topic. No more heartfelt confessions in the glow of the evening sun. No more night time embraces, curled up in their cosy little pocket of peace, trapped away from the rest of the cold world outside. It felt like that night at Hogwarts all over again, when he'd let the Death Eaters in through the Vanishing Cabinet. When he'd brushed his fingers across her cheek and said goodbye to her frozen features, not even able to look into her deep brown eyes one last time because he'd been forced to stupefy her. Back then he had felt conflicted, a sharp stab of misery piercing his chest as he walked away from her. But now, months later, it was like he was being ripped into tiny fragments. Gone was the silly infatuation, replaced by a love so desperate and real he could taste it. He could feel it like he could feel the ghost of her kiss upon his lips, haunting him day and night. And he had a terrible feeling that if they were parted once more he would never recover those missing pieces that were being torn from him so callously.

Screwing his fingers up into fists so tight his knuckles whitened, Draco spun around and marched back across to her.

"No, Hermione. You don't get to say goodbye to me. Not here, not now. There has to be another way."

"There isn't!"

"I refuse to accept that." His tone was harsh as he practically growled his denial at her. He grasped her face in both his hands. Hermione's cheeks were wet with the tracks of her tears as she shook her head unseeingly.

"Please Hermione…"

He watched her cautiously as she clumsily reached up and fumbled with the locket; that glinting piece of sapphire strung up like a thousand memories around her neck. She fiddled with the clasp on one side, trying to release it. Draco felt his whole body lurch with sick understanding before she even spoke again.

"You can…take…my locket again," she said between little gasping breaths as she tried to stem her tears. Her fingers were still fumbling with the locket's opening as she attempted to remove it to give to him. Draco's hands jolted into action and he grabbed her fingers tightly, stopping her in her tracks.

"NO! Damnit Hermione, I don't want your bloody locket…" he paused and met her eye then, getting instantly lost in the endless brown depths flecked with gold and blurred with tears. His heart pounded so rapidly he could feel it like a drum beat against his ribs, "I want _you._ "

His confession seemed to ripple through her like a cascade of hot water. He saw her shiver and her eyes went a bit fuzzy and unfocused. And as his gaze flickered downwards he realised he could no sooner stop his next move than he could stop breathing. He had to taste her or he was worried he would drift away into the dark nothingness of insanity.

Madly, driven by some odd power that seized his whole body, Draco's hands tightened on her face, his fingertips slipping into her hair as he leaned down and kissed her urgently. It was like every fibre of his being had been waiting since that fateful night in the hospital wing, for this one single moment. His lips crashed against hers with a passion that sucked the air from his lungs. He kissed her like a man dying from neglect, desperately seeking her touch. Draco's lips and tongue caressed hers with a series of heady, spine tingling kisses, as he tasted every inch of her mouth. He didn't even realise he had backed her against the wall until he felt the sharp gasp leave her mouth, and he swallowed it as he pressed her further into the solid surface behind her. But it wasn't just a battle to consume her from the inside out. After a frightened pause, she was kissing him back and their tongues stroked against one another in a way that made his eyes roll back far into his head.

When breathing became an issue, Draco tilted his head back just barely and let them pant a few times before he spoke in a dangerously husky voice.

"Find another way, Hermione. I won't let you go. I can't."

"What about the Order…"

"Fuck the Order!"

Hermione let out a slight whimper of protest, their foreheads falling to rest against one another. He felt her fingernails digging into his back just beneath his shoulder blades. The slight sting made heat flare across his spine and right down to his toes. But before he could argue his point further, she was leaning her head back and blinking up at him with those beautiful eyes he had fallen in love with a hundred times in a hundred different ways. And when she finally replied, her words gave him the faintest, most pathetic sliver of hope imaginable. But it was hope nonetheless.

"I don't want to let you go either."

And right now, hope was all he had left.

….

….

 **Oh dear. What will they do? Please review and let me know what you think of this new development. Merci!**


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven**

 **I was taken aback by all the reviews furiously condemning the Order! Obviously they're horrible awful terrible people right now, but I was expecting more reactions to the kiss – haha! Guess I was wrong. People were just still too angry to celebrate. I enjoy your anger though, strangely. Let's see what you say this time… as always, JKR is the owner, I am the borrower.**

As she flew frantically about her bedroom, Hermione tried uselessly to take a few deep, calming breaths and get her thoughts into some kind of coherent order. Her mind was a chaotic jumble of ideas; plans to fix this awful mess she had gotten herself into. Scooping up her beaded bag, she rummaged around inside it to check if anything was missing besides the tent.

 _Why in Merlin's dame did I give Harry and Ron the bloody tent?_ She groaned to herself. Her hand scrambled inside the bag, checking that everything was in place and even running her fingers over the spines of her books, counting how many were there. After a nervous pause, she then traced the shape of Harry's Firebolt leaning up on one side of the large, invisible space inside. Hermione collapsed back to sit on the edge of the bed, gnawing on her bottom lip and wondering what on earth she was supposed to do now.

Harry and Ron were gone. Tracking them down would be futile, especially with Draco in tow. It would be a pointless exercise, simply causing more heartache to everyone and circling right back to where they started.

They couldn't just go on the run. Not without serious protection spells and wards, like the ones that had been infused into that damn tent. The tent currently in the possession of her wayward friends. And Draco was too vulnerable with that mark branded on his arm. There was no doubt if they just wandered the countryside and tried to hide themselves that he would be hunted down eventually. They needed somewhere safe and secure that was defended by more than just temporary charms.

And after her conversation with Draco earlier she knew that staying was no longer an option. If Draco was moved and she was forced to remain here at the Order headquarters then she knew he wouldn't be able to cope. As she had predicted, he had gone slightly mental when she had broken the news to him. The desperation in his eyes and in his words had been palpable. Hermione had actually felt her soul fracturing into little pieces at the desolation in his gaze. And then…

 _He kissed me._

Hermione trembled at the recollection. She twisted her fingers together and licked her lips as she considered the way things had escalated earlier. She had been fumbling to undo the clasp of her locket. She had wanted to give him a memento to treasure, like before. To help him survive the coming isolation and remind him of their bond. But he had vehemently refused the token, grabbing her hands to stop her.

 _I want you,_ he had murmured. And then he was kissing her so fiercely that she had felt the strength in her knees give out. It was a good thing she had been pressed between him and the wall of the room. She might have sunk boneless to the ground otherwise. Hermione licked her lips again unconsciously. She could almost taste him still, and her spine tingled from the force of the sensory memory.

But where did that leave her now?

She knew that she could no longer bear to abandon him or follow the Order's ridiculous commands to part them. Ever since that night in the hospital wing so many months ago, Hermione had been hurtling down a path she'd never expected or even dreamed of. And although the destination seemed hazy and indistinct, she knew that Draco was waiting there, his fate inexorably tied to hers. That kiss had made all her tumultuous thoughts crystallise at last into a sense of single-minded determination. She had never felt anything like it. All her previous crushes and relationships seemed so trivial in comparison. Maybe it was the way he looked at her like no one else ever had. As though she was the most precious thing in the world.

Hermione shook her head in indecision, chewing on the corner of a nail and staring glumly at the opposite wall. Aside from her devotion to staying with Draco, she was at a bit of a loss. Fortunately a gentle tapping at the door interrupted her bleak thoughts. Hermione glanced over at the clock on the bedside table, surprised that someone was seeking her out this late at night. Flicking her wand, she lit a few candles nearby to cast a warmer glow on the room before making her way over to the door. When she creaked it open, she was a bit stunned to see Andromeda on the other side, looking furtively around the hallway.

"Andromeda!" she noted in a quiet voice, stepping outside to face the older woman and drawing her jacket closer around her to ward off the increasing chill of the night, "Is something wrong?"

"No I just wanted to have a quick chat…"

"Okay," she replied slowly, not sure what to expect. The black haired lady beckoned her closer so that they couldn't possibly be overheard. Her eyes flickered down the hallway to Draco's door.

"How did he take the news?"

Hermione grimaced and leaned against the wall slightly.

"Not well. Actually, he went a bit mad."

"And you?"

Hermione contemplated the question, her thoughts flitting back to a few minutes ago when she had been weighing up her options. Or even earlier when her lips had been locked passionately with Draco's.

"I don't know," she admitted with a sigh, "I'm so confused."

"I don't think they'll let you visit him, Hermione. They seemed pretty adamant about keeping you both separated."

She nodded in agreement and rubbed her nose unconsciously.

"I know. I don't…" she let out a deep breath and cocked her head to the side, considering the woman before her, "Can I speak frankly, Andromeda?"

"Of course."

"I don't want to just sit around headquarters waiting for something to happen, divided from my friends and from Draco too. I couldn't bear it! And he certainly doesn't want to go anywhere without me. But I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

Andromeda peered suspiciously down the hallway and grasped her shoulder, tugging Hermione gently, further away from the staircase. Her eyes darted around for a few more seconds cautiously before she spoke.

"Ted and I were discussing your little problem…" She muttered, and Hermione's heart fluttered at the determined expression on the older woman's face. She tilted her head to the side and listened closely. "We wondered whether either of you had come up with a plan at all."

"Not exactly. We just know that we want to stay together," she answered unflinchingly, knowing herself now for sure that this was true. Andromeda nodded and lowered her voice again secretively.

"I think maybe we can help you, Hermione."

"How?" she asked eagerly.

"Well, we have this house…" her ears perked up and she shuffled keenly forwards, gesturing for Andromeda to continue, "It's sitting empty right now. You could take him there."

Hermione blinked at the dark haired woman in front of her in disbelief.

"The Order wouldn't allow it… "

"I'd say it's better if we don't ask their permission at all, actually."

Her eyes widened in surprise.

"They'd stop us! They'd bring him back here…"

"Not if they don't know where he is."

Hermione was shocked at the older woman's suggestion. She considered her carefully, weighing up how much she could trust her, and feeling instinctively that she could.

"You're suggesting that we run away? That I sneak him out?"

"Exactly."

Andromeda had a strangely rebellious glint in her eye and her lips were almost curled up into a smirk. It was an expression that actually reminded Hermione painfully of Draco. She could suddenly see the family resemblance.

"Where is this house? Whose is it?"

Andromeda shrugged, waving her hand dismissively.

"Oh it's just an old property Ted and I have been holding onto for sentimental reasons."

"Is it safe?" she asked, her excitement building as the idea took form in her mind.

"Fidelius Charm," the woman told her briskly, in a slightly proud voice, "I'm the secret keeper. No one could get near it without my explicit instructions. Or yours, if I include you as a second secret-keeper. Is that enough?"

Hermione nodded enthusiastically, knowing that it was even better than she could have hoped for. She watched the woman before her with a feeling of overwhelming awe.

"Andromeda… this is a huge risk," she whispered, "The Order will be furious."

The woman cocked one eyebrow up in a faintly amused expression.

"They don't scare me. I don't mind ruffling a few feathers."

"But your daughter… she's married to Remus-"

Andromeda placed her hands gently on Hermione's shoulders and gave them a little squeeze.

"I know. But Draco's family too," Andromeda stated with quiet surety. Hermione felt the start of a tear prickle at her eyes and she blinked it away as the older woman continued, "And I expect you to take care of him, Hermione. He saved Ted's life, but it's not just about repaying a debt. He has no one else right now."

"I know. I will."

The two women stared at each other silently for a few heavy moments before they both let out a soft chuckle, almost inaudible in the dusty hallway. Hermione shook her head in wonderment.

"I can't believe we're actually going to do this," she whispered and they shared a look of understanding.

"We're going to do this," Andromeda answered more steadily.

"What about supplies?" Hermione asked in a rush, "I can't keep leaving the wards all the time, it might draw unwanted attention."

The other woman gave her shoulder a pat.

"Don't worry, I'll bring you what you need. I can probably slip away every couple of days or at least."

"Wait!" Hermione said with a small gasp of disappointment, realising suddenly that there was something she hadn't considered, "We won't be able to communicate with the Order if we leave. What if Draco thinks of more information? Or something happens that he can help solve? Or what if Harry and Ron turn up here again needing help? I may be furious with the Order, but I can't just cut all ties with them."

"You can still pass on things through me…"

"No I can't," she argued, "then they'd know you were helping us. I imagine they'd make life very difficult for you."

Andromeda contemplated the problem briefly with a frown thinning her lips. The thoughtful look made her face appear so serious, drawing out some of the similarities to her sister Bellatrix.

"Can't you just send them messages by patronus? I can easily pass information _to_ you, but if you need to communicate with us for any reason, that should be enough to get the job done. An owl would be too obvious returning to the same place. But they can't trace your patronus."

"I don't have an owl anyway," Hermione told her with a soft shake of the head, feeling a pang of sadness that poor Hedwig had died, "So the patronus will have to do."

Andromeda nodded firmly and smirked.

"Sounds like we've got a plan then."

Hermione chuckled quietly, feeling a bit giddy at the thought that she might slip him right out from under their noses.

"When do you think they'll move him?" she murmured, her stomach fluttering. Andromeda glanced furtively down the hall again and shook her head more solemnly.

"I wouldn't be surprised if they do it as soon as they possibly can. Don't underestimate the Order's ability to be irrationally terrified of anything even slightly connected to Lucius Malfoy."

Hermione snorted.

"Yeh, I noticed," she commented, before letting out a sigh and allowing her eyes to slide over to the door to Draco's room. Andromeda followed her gaze thoughtfully. "So we should leave tonight?"

"I think that would be best. Once everyone's asleep."

A tickling feeling stirred in Hermione's chest at the thought of running away so soon, stealing Draco in the middle of the night and vanishing to an unknown house somewhere far away. She was pretty certain she'd never done something so impulsive in her entire life. But all her instincts were telling her to do it. She was useless here now that Harry and Ron had left. The Order didn't trust her and she had no real purpose. Only Draco. And he was being taken away.

"Now I just have to convince _him_ to go," she muttered, nodding at the door and wondering what Draco's reaction would be. Andromeda scoffed a bit loudly in response.

"Oh please, Hermione. I may not know him much yet, but I do know that that boy would follow you to the ends of the earth."

Hermione blushed a bit, shooting the older woman a wary glare. But Andromeda's smirk just widened in amusement at the girl's embarrassment.

"Do you need to pack your things? Will you be able to organise yourself soon enough to leave?" she asked in concern, and this time it was Hermione's turn to smile.

"Oh don't worry about that," she replied smugly, thinking of her beaded bag sitting on the drawers just inside the room behind them, "I'm ready for anything."

Andromeda nodded and was about to ask something else when Hermione suddenly thought of something she actually didn't have that they might need once they leave.

"Oh blast! I don't have a wand for Draco. And I don't know where they put _his_ wand when they brought him here."

Andromeda frowned.

"No, I don't know where it is either."

She pursed her lips and tapped her foot briskly on the ground.

"What if something happens and he can't defend himself? He needs his wand back."

"We could try and look for it, but I highly doubt it will just be lying around."

"Argh! I don't have any spares. What am I going to do?"

Hermione groaned and clenched her hands into fists as she considered her dilemma. But before she could formulate any ideas at all, a new voice joined in, speaking through the darkness and making both women jump in the air in fright.

"I believe I can help you there."

Hermione spun round with wide eyes to witness the intruder, her heart pounding in fear. The former head of Gryffindor House stepped into a sliver of moonlight becoming more visible with each step. She was holding up a familiar dark hawthorn wand, twirling it in her fingers. And then, as her pulse settled once again from when it had spiked in terror, Hermione noticed her professor's expression and her heart lifted.

Because there was no mistaking the conspiratorial grin painted on Minerva McGonagall's face.

….

….

….

The rain pattered rather desolately against the windowpane. Each drop was highlighted by the sporadic flashing of an old street lamp outside. Draco traced a single drop indolently down the glass with his fingertip.

 _I won't be sleeping tonight…_

He leaned his cheek against the icy surface and let out a sigh that sent a puff of fog onto the glass. Sleep was definitely out of the question. Only a couple of hours ago – had it really been three already? – he'd been locked in a toe-curling kiss with Hermione. The feel of her lips was still imprinted onto his mind, as was the sound of the little whines she made that kept playing on a loop in his head.

And now he was alone again, and the uncertainty and doubt was eating him alive. A small, devious part of his brain imagined him holding her close with no Order of the Phoenix and no Death Eaters. No bullshit. Just the two of them. When they kissed in the hospital wing, it had felt like a small isolated world all of their own. But here in this stupid dingy house there was too much opposition that seemed to always be banging at the door and threatening to tear them apart. He wondered morosely what she was planning to do now. Would she follow their wishes? Would she meekly allow them to take him away, ripping them away from each other and at the same time ripping out his heart? Or would she fight?

But his questions were halted instantly by the almost inaudible creaking of the door behind him. He spun around and, upon seeing that it was Hermione, leapt to his feet and approached her at a rapid stride.

"Hermione-" he muttered in awe, seeing the shaky grin on her lips. She looked so pretty, wrapped in a heavy cloak but still shivering fretfully in the cold night air. Her cheeks were pink and flushed and she was chewing nervously on her bottom lip. He was surprised to see her. It must have been almost two in the morning.

"Hey," she whispered, acting a bit secretively as she glanced around the room and drew closer to him, "I need to talk to you."

"Okay," he said with a slow smile, "Let's talk."

Draco stared into her big brown eyes for a few seconds, before dropping his gaze lower to her lips. He wanted to kiss her again. It was all he wanted. But he waited patiently for her to speak, forcing away his distraction.

"I have a plan. It's totally mad and would be just about the most spontaneous thing I've ever done… but it's something."

Draco's stomach lifted strangely in anticipation, seeing the hopeful gleam in her eyes.

"What is it?" he asked quickly.

Instead of answering at first, Hermione reached up and touched the back of her fingers to his cheek.

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course," he replied without hesitation, knowing that he would do anything that she asked. Hermione took a deep breath and nodded to herself. When she spoke again she sounded a bit breathless as though she was giving herself courage.

"I'm going to break you out of this place and we're going to stay together at a house owned by your aunt Andromeda, who is absolutely magnificent by the way, and I don't care what the Order think, they can go to hell. We're going to get far away from this bloody mess and have the freedom to do whatever we want. Andromeda's going to help protect us – the house has got a Fidelius charm actually which is perfect, and Minerva is also going to help keep us in contact with the Order just in case we're needed."

Hermione took a deep breath when she was finished and Draco blinked at her a bit stunned, trying to absorb that sudden rush of information.

"Wait… Andromeda?"

"Yes," she said with a wide smile, her eyes sparkling almost mischievously, "She knew we didn't want to be separated. She actually came to see me and offered to help."

"And the Order don't know about this?"

" _Nope,_ " she said, her lips popping a bit on the _p_ a bit as she seemed to actually bounce up and down on the balls of her feet. Draco felt a grin stretch his lips at her confession.

"So you're a real renegade now, huh Granger?"

Hermione held her chin up high, her nose crinkling slightly in that stubborn expression he had come to know and love.

"Only when other people are being high-handed, interfering wankers!"

His grin grew wider if that was possible.

"I'm in."

"Really?"

"Obviously," he drawled with a roll of his eyes. Surely she knew by now that he was going to try and stay as close to her as possible for as long as she would allow it, "So when are you going to kidnap me?"

"Right now," she declared, jingling something in one hand. He looked down and saw that she was holding a tiny bag with some beading stitched onto it in a winding pattern. As she waved it, a tiny thud could be heard from inside.

"Oops, I think that was a book."

"Very impressive, Granger."

She blushed but smiled proudly, an expression that was unexpectedly pretty on her soft features, illuminated by the moonlight. His excitement grew.

"Are you ready?" she asked quietly. Draco shrugged and held up his hands, palms open and empty.

"Well…I don't exactly have anything to pack."

She nodded to herself and withdrew something from an inner pocket of her coat. Draco felt something contract and tighten in his chest as he began to recognise the thing piece of wood she held loosely in her fingers.

"You have _this_."

Draco blinked a couple of times and swallowed. He reached out with tentative fingers and grasped his wand in his hand. It felt like coming home. A warmth spread up his arm and through his entire body, as if he had been reconnected with a missing limb and now he felt whole again. He clenched his slightly damp palm around the hilt of the wand and revelled in the touch of the smooth hawthorn under his skin.

"My wand…how…?"

Hermione was looking at him with an expression of understanding, as if she knew exactly how he was feeling right now. But then she had probably had a similar experience when she was eleven years old and everything just fell into place the first time she held a wand.

"You won't believe this. But McGonagall actually stole it and snuck it up to me. I think she knew what we were planning…"

Draco snorted softly.

"McGonagall's in on this?"

"She and Andromeda seem to be on our side here."

He felt a wave of gratitude swell up inside him for these women who he had never given anything to, never even really said a kind word to, but who were fighting for him and braving the Order's displeasure if they found out. It was extremely humbling.

"Sounds like I have a formidable team of kidnappers."

"You have no idea," she agreed with a wry little smirk.

At that moment, a creaking sound echoed up the staircase in the centre of the house, drifting into his room and making Hermione's head shoot around in alarm, her eyes wide and fearful.

"We have to go. If someone finds us…"

Draco nodded and swiftly pocketed his wand in his trousers. He stood waiting patiently for a moment as Hermione listened at the door for anyone coming, but there was only silence now. She gestured for him to follow her and he did, moving close behind her as they left the room behind. It had been his reluctant home for weeks now. Feeling emboldened by his new freedom, Draco reached down and grasped onto her hand. He locked their fingers together and held on tight as he let her lead the way. Hermione blinked and looked a bit surprised for a moment before she gave his hand a little squeeze in return and he could see a private smile tug at her lips even though her face was mostly turned away from him.

"The stairs are a bit loud," she muttered faintly to herself. With a swift motion she drew her wand and silently cast a charm on the cracked and mouldy staircase winding down below them. As they both took the first few steps down, it was silent, even though he still felt the groaning shift of the wood under his feet. They moved quickly around the landing and down again, and Draco could almost imagine that the air itself was becoming fresher and lighter as he passed further and further away from his room, which although mostly comfortable, had been a sort of prison for him. He couldn't bring himself to feel too bitter about the cosy space they left behind though. After all, that was where he had finally got his chance to spend time with Hermione and learn more about her.

She paused on the next landing and pointed her wand down the next flight that led into a sort of entry corridor. Her hand was trembling a bit in its grip on the wand.

" _Homenum Revelio,_ " she whispered.

There was a soft noise like a faint rush of wind, and then nothing. Hermione nodded and tugged on his hand to keep moving. She paid particular attention to a blackish door at the end of the entrance hall, creeping past it carefully. Despite the very late hour, or early hour depending on how you looked at it, he could hear voices murmuring behind that door. Finally they made it to the front entrance, and he heard Hermione let out a sigh of relief.

"We need to be standing just outside the door to apparate," she explained in a barely audible whisper.

"Alright," he replied, clenching his hand around hers tighter. It was a freezing night and her skin was clammy and shivering both from the cold and from fear.

"Okay, Draco-" she turned around, one hand entwined in his and the other one frozen on the door handle. He was met suddenly with her beautiful brown eyes, open and sincere as she stared at him, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Draco nodded. A muscle twitched in his jaw at the thought of being moved anywhere where he would be divided from her. He was too far gone for that. He had sacrificed and risked everything to surrender to the Order, to come here to this distinctly unfriendly place in a vain attempt to try and find her again. And he wasn't about to let her go now.

"More sure than I've ever been about _anything,_ " he told her with a serious expression and her lips pulled up slightly in the briefest of smiles.

"Listen carefully," she murmured, shifting her grip to twist the door knob, "We're going to number 18 Lilyfield Road, Broughton Mills. Say it."

"18 Lilyfield Road Broughton Mills," he repeated dutifully. She nodded approvingly and squeezed his hand.

"Ready?"

"Yes."

Hermione finally drew the door open and they both slipped out onto the front steps. Even before the door had closed itself behind them, she was pulling out her wand spinning around to face him again. His breath hitched as she stepped very close in towards his body. Hermione wound her arms under his and around his waist. He swallowed and looked down into her eyes., registering every detail. This close he could feel her breath on his cheek, warm in comparison to the cold night air, and he could see the flecks of gold in her irises. At his back he could feel her hand clenched tightly around her wand. Then her lashes fluttered and she closed her eyes. That crinkle above her nose appeared once more as she concentrated. He could practically hear the words repeating themselves on a loop in her head.

 _Destination, Determination, Deliberation…_

And then he felt the familiar pull of apparition and he was being sucked through a pinprick of blackness as his body became distorted and the air froze inside his lungs. A great pressure pushed down all around him, and then the next second it was released.

Draco blinked and looked around him. Although it was still dark, a blanket of stars and the glow of a half moon lighted up the landscape here. They were standing, still wrapped around each other, and out the front of a small house nestled in the side of a hill. There was a quaint little town stretching down about one hundred metres below them. Up here it was dark and quiet, the only sound being the haunted moaning of the wind as it battered the hillside. The house itself was tall but small and looked like it had seen better days. It had vines crawling all over it and there was a general air of neglect, from the couple of holes he could see in the haphazardly tiled roof to the cracks and cobwebs in the windows. Hermione hummed thoughtfully next to him, drawing his attention back to her. Her eyes were tracing over the house too, noticing every detail speculatively. It was possible she hadn't even noticed that they were still essentially embracing one another.

"Well I think it's lovely," she murmured, her soft smiled lit up by the white light of the moon above them, "Andromeda said that Ted bought this place as a fixer-upper project. But the war started before he cou-"

Draco cut her off mid sentence, no longer able to wait another second before he could kiss her again. He carefully held her cheeks in his hands and turned her back towards him, pressing his mouth to hers firmly, leaving no doubt about his feelings towards her. Now that they were alone, surrounded only by miles of green hills and fields of heather and bracken and wide-open skies, he felt daring. There was no one here to object, no one to disapprove of them. He caressed her lips thoroughly, tasting every inch of her and feeling bold enough to dart his tongue out to stroke questioningly against hers. Hermione let out another one of those little whimpers he adored, making his gut spasm with something much more heated. Draco tilted his head to the side and sought out more of her sweet taste, tugging her swollen bottom lip into his mouth and nibbling lightly on it. He swallowed her gasp and pulled her body closer so that they were pressed against each other, blocking out the cold wind. Hermione's fingers dug into the skin just below his shoulder blades as she held on tightly, and he felt his spine shudder at her grip.

The locket that sat against her ribcage was a reminder of everything he had held onto these past months. But now its value paled in comparison to the feeling of actually being here with her. Kissing her and feeling her respond. The memories of things he was forced to do for the Death Eaters, of his father's cruelty and his mother's sickness faded somewhere into the back of his mind, replaced by the all-consuming desire to be totally lost in Hermione Granger.

Eventually he pulled away and groaned as he pressed his forehead against hers. He licked his lips slowly and stared down at her, both their gazes a bit bleary and unfocused.

"It's perfect," he croaked in response to her words about the house, but not actually caring even if it had been some decrepit, half burned down shack. He was with _her,_ which was what really mattered. She had come up with a solution; she had chosen to be with _him_ over staying with the Order and his little lioness had been brave enough to defy all of them in the most audacious way possible. And right now, in his mind, that was about as perfect as it could get.

….

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 **Sorry for the slight delay in getting this chapter up. Work is crazy right now. Let me know what you think. Many of you predicted this! What next? Please review!**


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

 **I think everyone was glad to see Draco and Hermione escape. Now what? How will they use their newfound freedom? Enjoy this offering – a bit quicker than the last one! As always, JKR is the esteemed creator.**

When Draco woke up, it was already late morning judging by the light that seemed to peek through the haze of dust across every inch of the room. They had both needed a long sleep after the events of the past couple of days. Between her friends abandoning her and the Order acting like a pack of wankers, Hermione had been fraught with worry and tension. It hadn't taken much effort on his part to coax her into the front room and find a musty old couch where they could curl up in each other's arms. And if he had snuck one more gentle kiss onto her lips as she drifted to sleep, no one could blame him.

Draco grinned and stretched, noticing as he did that there was more room on the two-seater couch than there should be, since they had barely squeezed onto it together last night. His feet were draped over the edge and dangling in mid air, but he spun them around to land flat on the floor as he bolted upright, realising with a jolt that Hermione wasn't next to him anymore.

But before his anxiety could take hold, a familiar sort of whistling sound rose gently from a room behind him and he turned his head. The open doorway revealed a glimpse of long curvy legs encased in muggle denim. Hermione's legs. She was swaying backwards and forwards and watching over a rusty little kettle as it boiled on the stovetop. Draco rose to his feet and sauntered over to the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb with his arms folded over his chest. He watched her for a long time, loving the tantalising way her hips moved as she hummed along unconsciously to a song only she could hear. Her hair was rather wild from a night burrowed snugly against his shoulder, and her clothes were a bit crumpled too. But she seemed happy. As she poured the boiled water into two cups, her mouth was curled up into a soft smile.

"So remind me again why my aunt owns this battered old cottage stranded in the middle of nowhere?"

Hermione spun around with an even sweeter smile on her lips, obviously sensing that his scorn didn't really carry any malice to it.

"I think Ted bought it years ago as a fixer-upper!"

"Yes you mentioned that last night. But why in Salazar's name would anyone want to spend their time fixing up a place like this?"

Hermione chuckled and presented him with one of the two mugs she had prepared. Brewed strongly with just a dash of milk and no sugar; exactly how he liked it.

"It's a muggle thing," she explained patiently, blowing carefully on her own tea and resting one hip against the kitchen counter, "Muggles buy old run down properties and then spend time renovating them."

"Why?" he asked, confused, "Wouldn't they rather buy a place that's actually nice to live in without all the effort?"

She smiled even wider and gave a little shrug.

"They do it for fun. Like a hobby."

Draco cocked one eyebrow and looked at her sceptically.

"Uhuh…"

"Hey! Don't knock it til you try it. Which may be sooner than you think."

"What do you mean?" he asked with trepidation, eyes drifting over the mouldy cupboards and cracked and cobwebbed tiles around them.

"Well… who knows how long we'll be here?"

"So we're gonna…"

"Yep!" she interrupted with a cheeky smile, gesturing around to the grime caked onto on the windows, encircled by tatty curtains, "We may as well help out. We've got nothing else to do except wait for news that something's happened or for someone to contact us for help."

"I can think of a few things I'd rather be doing," Draco grumbled under his voice, but Hermione just ignored him and put her cup back next to the sink. She drew out her wand and flicked it at the tap and he watched impressed as the rust started to slowly creep back into itself and disappear.

"Come on, it'll be fun! Andromeda said if we're bored we can decorate this place any way we like! It'll keep us busy and take our minds off all the horrible things going on out there and everything that's happened already. We can actually achieve something together here!"

Despite himself, Draco felt a smile tug at his lips. Her enthusiasm was infectious and soon he was rolling his eyes and groaning good-naturedly.

"Alright you infuriating witch! We can do it if you wish."

Hermione clapped her hands together in delight and leaned forwards to peck Draco on the lips. He blinked in shock at the sudden feel of her mouth on his. But before he could respond she had pulled away and was blushing crimson while she stared at him in with wide eyes, surprised by her own actions.

"Alright then," she said in a slightly panicked voice, clearly trying to recover her composure, "shall we take a tour around the house and see what we're in for?"

Draco nodded and, feeling daring after her impulsive kiss a second ago, grasped her hand gently in his. With a smirk of triumph he led her back to the front of the house where they'd entered last night. He liked the feeling of her small hand wrapped in his larger one. Everything had been so rushed the night before that he hadn't really had time to appreciate it. But now he memorised the little details of the gesture. Her skin was pale and smooth and she seemed so tiny compared to him. It felt nice to hold someone's hand. He wasn't sure it was something he'd ever done with anyone, now that he thought about it. Maybe when he was very young and he'd held onto his mother's hand when they went to Diagon Alley. But he'd certainly never had such an innocent, affectionate contact like this with anyone in recent years. The way she trustingly followed him into each room, her brown eyes round and sincere, made a flutter start up in his stomach that he couldn't seem to stop no matter how many deep breaths he took.

As they wandered around the cottage, Hermione took note of a number of things she'd like to mend or repair. And although he was reluctant to admit it after his earlier doubts, Draco too was keen to take on one or two projects himself. He mentally made a list of a few features of the house that might actually be enjoyable to fix up. It wasn't long before he could see the appeal to muggles. It was one thing to buy a house you liked, but to make it yourself with your bare hands (or wands in this case) and design it to suit you personally was a tempting prospect. As they strolled through the house he pondered the space with new eyes, forming ideas in his head. Such as the little patch of garden in the side yard that would be nice for growing vegetables, or the winding staircase to the second floor that desperately needed a new bannister. And he was definitely struck by the idea of restoring the loft in the bedroom so that it could double as a cosy little library nook. When he suggested this last one to Hermione she tilted her head to the side and gave him such an intense look of adoration that the fluttering in his stomach erupted into actual tremors he could feel through his whole body.

"I hope Ted and Andromeda don't mind if we get a bit carried away," she murmured, and he realised then too that he had basically started planning in his mind a house that would be perfect for _her._ He wasn't about to apologize though. He could hardly be blamed for wanting to construct a home around her that was so wonderful she'd never want to leave.

"I'm sure they'll understand," he reassured her.

Hermione gave his hand one last squeeze and tugged him back to the living room at the front of the house where they had slept. Retrieving the beaded bag she had brought with them, he watched as she withdrew a little wrapped hamper of sandwiches and fruit, kept fresh by a stasis charm. The two munched happily on the food, sitting on the floor of the cosy space and discussing their plans for what they wanted to do. It was… wonderful, actually. He'd never spent a more pleasant afternoon, nor laughed so much. Occasionally he would lift a hand to brush a curl off her forehead and she would bestow one of her beautiful smiles in return.

If his past self from around second year could witness this moment, he would be disgusted by how much he was acting like a lovesick puppy. But he couldn't bring himself to care too much.

Just as they were finishing their simple meal, the familiar cracking sound of apparition could be heard. Hermione jumped to her feet and peered cautiously out the window, but her body relaxed instantly.

"It's Andromeda," she murmured, and he also brushed off the crumbs from their lunch as they both stood to attention. He noticed she didn't bother creating any distance between them, so they were standing very close together when his aunt entered the room.

"Oh good, you've gotten settled in!" she exclaimed upon seeing them.

"In a manner of speaking," Hermione chuckled with a shrug and a gesture towards the shabby couch where they had slept. But before the older woman could comment, Draco took the few steps towards her and caught her eye. His expression was serious and as genuine as he could manage.

"Androm…Aunt," he changed his mind at the last moment and decided to refer to her in more familial terms. He could tell it meant something to her as well, since a gentle smile crossed her face, "I don't know how I can begin to thank you for your help. I couldn't bear the thought of being uprooted and moved around like a common prisoner, especially if they separated me…"

He almost said _from Hermione_ but stopped himself quickly. Although he suspected that his aunt already knew of their attachment and didn't particularly mind.

"Draco," she began with a sigh and a fond smirk, reaching forwards to grasp his hand reassuringly, "Your thanks is appreciated but not necessary. We're family. We take care of each other."

Draco nodded and gave her hand a squeeze. When he stepped back, he met Hermione's eye and saw her approving smile. He returned to her side and gave her shoulder a little bump. As he did, Andromeda gave a soft tut and gazed around the room in curiosity.

"I haven't been here for an age!" she mumbled to herself as she inspected the run down nature of the building, "We bought it years ago when Ted started reminiscing about summers in his childhood spent helping his father build their new house. But then when Ted had to go on the run from the ministry's muggle-born registration, we were worried that this place would draw too much attention. That's why I started the process of creating the Fidelius charm. And with Ted now protected at the Order headquarters we no longer needed him to use it. Luckily by then I'd worked out how to add a second secret keeper. I was never very good at the more complex charms work at school."

"The location is beautiful. The whole valley is quite breath taking," Hermione commented and the other woman smiled kindly.

"I'm just sorry the house itself is such a mess!"

"Nonsense. It has…um…potential!"

All three of them chuckled at Hermione's attempt to sound overly positive.

"That's a nice way of saying it's falling down around you," Andromeda drawled.

"How did the Order react to my sudden disappearance?" Draco asked curiously and Hermione nodded keenly along with his question. Andromeda gave a soft snort of pained amusement, looking between the two of them.

"Well you certainly know how to ruffle feathers," she began, and Draco gave her a grin that resembled pride, not at all upset at the possibility of angering the precious Order of the Phoenix and its overly zealous members. His Aunt continued, "They went into a full-blown panic when they found your room empty, casting all sorts of extra wards and defences on the house. And then when they discovered Hermione was gone too…" Here Andromeda actually smiled quite wickedly, "Well, let's just say that their first conclusion was that you had kidnapped her as part of some nefarious plot."

"Of course they did. Wankers," Hermione interjected wryly.

"But I think Minerva finally convinced them that you had probably just run away together. She made it all sound very romantic."

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes, but he was nevertheless grateful to the former Head of Gryffindor for her assistance.

"I have a feeling she probably enjoyed that," Hermione muttered with an indulgent smile. His aunt nodded her agreement.

"Apart from that, their reaction was predictably outraged and tediously scandalised."

Draco snorted again, louder this time, earning a bump on the shoulder from Hermione in return. As the three continued to discuss the implications of their hasty flight from the Order, Andromeda produced a whole basket of food, which she quickly enlarged to reveal what must be a week's worth of groceries, and they moved to stock the fridge and boil the kettle for more tea. And with every minute that she stayed, chatting comfortably with both him and Hermione, Draco realised that he actually really just _liked_ this woman who happened to be his aunt. If she was his only family now, he couldn't be happier.

….

….

….

Over the next few days the two fugitives really got to work. Andromeda had repeated her very delighted permission for them to do whatever they wanted to the house. She had supplied them with enough food to last for days and Draco discovered early on that Hermione was an amazing cook. She could throw together any strange combination of ingredients and turn them into a gourmet feast. And the way she danced around that rickety old kitchen, using the variety of muggle appliances and tools, was impressive. He was used to having food just turn up on the table, both at Hogwarts and at home, from the hard but lrgely invisible work of house elves. He wasn't sure he'd ever really seen the process that went on behind the scenes. It was an odd realization actually. To discover that he had been eating meals all his life without really knowing everything that went into them, was a bit staggering. Although perfectly normal for a young, wealthy pureblood in their society, it still felt unsettling to suddenly realise that such a huge part of his world was relatively unknown to him.

Hermione had offered to teach him a few tricks in the kitchen and he found himself actually looking forward to it. She always looked so adorable with a streak of flour unknowingly resting against her cheek that he could brush away with his thumb. Not to mention the light, wistful tone of affection in her voice when she spoke about cooking with her mother when she was little. It made him realise that, just like Ted's "fixer-upper", there was actually more to these muggle customs than what met the eye. He had always thought these things were just chores, the menial tasks of house elves and servants. But now he thought maybe he had always been taught to be wilfully ignorant of muggle behaviour and the way they brought meaning to their lives and their relationships in unexpected ways. Hardly surprising, considering Lucius's prejudicial parenting.

For his part, Draco was really enjoying his work in the house. He had found that he actually got a kick from playing around with all the bedraggled wooden furniture. He was using different types of transfiguration, a subject he had always found interesting at school (although sometimes this interest was rather reluctant considering his attitude towards the teacher at that time). But tweaking certain spells and moulding the furniture into what he wanted was strangely satisfying. His latest project had been reconstructing some chairs to go around the dining table he had finished a few days earlier.

A dreamy haze had fallen over the house. Sometimes Draco even forgot that there was a war going on outside and that they were supposed to be involved in it. He occasionally caught Hermione gazing sadly out the kitchen window when they were doing the washing up, and he knew she was wondering where her two friends were and if they were safe. But by some sort of unspoken rule neither of them mentioned Potter or Weasley by name, as if speaking about them would disrupt their private little sanctuary. He still had stormy visions in his sleep of what he'd witnessed as a temporary Death Eater, but now they seemed almost blurry and indistinct. It was soothing just to sink into the warmth of Hermione's body curled up next to him on that dusty old couch rather than allow himself to succumb to his nightmares.

But despite this seeming haven of bliss they had settled into, there was one thing that was still troubling Draco. As the days crept by, it began to play on his mind more and more, leaving him feeling restless and distracted. He had been sleeping with Hermione on that old couch every night since they had arrived. He had kissed her lightly a few times to say goodnight, boldly stealing pleasure from those moments when they were both tired and unguarded.

But sweet Salazar he wanted more.

Hermione had this way of bounding around the house in her muggle jeans spotted with crusty flecks of paint, with her hair wrapped into a long messy braid slung over one shoulder. He thought she might be the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He spent hours of each day either thinking about her while he worked or watching her at her own tasks. It was driving him mad. The smiles and the breathy laughter and those big brown eyes looking at him like he was actually worth something. Like he was something _good._ He couldn't remember the last time someone had held such pure, artless affection in their gaze for him. The force of her personality took his breath away; she was fiercely intelligent and powerful, and yet she doubted herself. She could be downright timid and vulnerable at times. And sometimes when she caught him staring at her, this bashful little blush would rise in her cheeks and she would avert her eyes with a nervous lick of her lips. He could only imagine the ferocious intensity she saw in his eyes given the direction of his thoughts in those moments. The fact that he could make her so nervous with just a look triggered a primal heat in his gut; a need to draw out her passion and make her feel as flustered as he felt on a daily basis.

And if something didn't snap soon then he was going to have to abandon their couch and sleep in the cold tiled bathtub upstairs from now on, because waking up pressed against the curve of her hip made him so hard it was almost painful. He felt like he was wandering around in a state of almost constant arousal, overwhelmed by her heady scent. The aroma of lavender and honey pervaded every inch of the house now, and Draco longed desperately to strip the clothing from her body and press his lips to her skin to see if she tasted just as good. But he had vowed to himself that he would wait until she was ready. Until he could wipe away her memories of him at school so that she knew exactly who he was now and what she was getting herself into.

On this particular evening, he had just put some finishing touches on the heavy oak dining table when he made his way to the kitchen. He could hear Hermione softly humming to herself. Draco stood completely immobile for a few minutes just watching her move around. She had started cooking some dinner and was patiently chopping the ingredients by hand. He'd asked her once why she didn't just use magic but she had given him a secret little smile and told him that the food just didn't taste as real if she didn't prepare it herself. Eventually Hermione looked up to see him standing there, the usual flush appearing in her cheeks.

"You gave me a fright, Draco," she said with a laugh, "I should get you a bell or something – like a cat!"

Draco smirked and let his eyes trace the curve of her throat as she took a sip from her glass of wine. He liked the way her nose crinkled up when she drank red wine but how white wine made her eyes go a bit dreamy as she licked every droplet from her lips. Tonight it was the latter. Some force greater than Draco's self-control compelled him to ask a question that had been bothering him ever since they had arrived here, that had prevented him from acting on his desires all this time. He cleared his throat but did not move from his position leaning against the doorway.

"Do you regret coming here with me?"

He wasn't surprised when she dropped the chopping knife she had been holding and it clattered against the kitchen counter.

"What? Draco-" Before she could stammer out a hasty denial, he interrupted her and continued.

"I know you think you willingly chose this, Hermione, and I know you didn't want the Order to take me away. I get it. And believe me when I say I _really_ appreciate it. But do you ever wish I'd just never turned up in your life again? That I'd never surrendered myself to the Order in the first place? You could have stayed with your friends…"

He let the thought stand alone, dropping his eyes to the haphazard array of vegetables, half-sliced on the counter but now momentarily forgotten. Before he knew what was happening, Hermione was standing in front of him and gazing at him with those endless brown eyes that seemed to be beseeching him for some kind of explanation.

"Draco, why are you asking me this? What made you even think such a thing?"

Draco sighed and ran his hand nervously through his hair. It really didn't help that she looked so fucking beautiful standing in the fading orange light coming in dappled rays through the kitchen window, highlighting the flecks of gold in her irises.

"This may sound selfish, but I really don't want you to end up resenting me. I don't know what I would do if you came to hate me for all the trouble I've caused you."

Hermione blinked up at him, her head cocking to the side as if she were trying to work out a difficult puzzle.

"I do sometimes wish I was still with the boys," she admitted in a sad whisper and he felt his heart clench briefly, before she powered on with a stubborn frown of determination, "But I certainly don't _regret_ what's happened. I could never regret being here with you. That's the only thing that actually makes any sense."

Draco groaned, half in pleasure at her response and half in agony. They were standing so close now that he was able to lean forwards and press his forehead against hers. He could feel that her breathing had sped up from the rapid puffs of hot air against his cheek.

"Why do you have to make this so difficult?" he croaked, breathing in the smell of lavender and feeling his eyes go out of focus a bit.

"Difficult?" she mumbled vaguely and he clenched his hands into tight fists to stop himself from pulling her closer into him.

"I promised myself I would wait until you were ready," he explained in a voice that sounded strained and hoarse, "I wanted to be patient and give you more time to see the real me without any of the other bullshit getting in the way. But bloody hell, Hermione, I want to kiss you so much right now. I want to do a lot more than kiss you."

Through bleary eyes he saw Hermione stare at him in shock, before a shiver passed through her body. She leaned back so she could observe him properly. Draco lifted his hands and tentatively placed them on her shoulders, sliding one up to brush a flake of dried paint from her cheek.

"I already know the real you, Draco. I saw it that night in the hospital wing so long ago and it's never left me."

Draco's navel twitched with a visceral reaction to her words. She wasn't cringing or shrinking back from his obvious desire and it was taking all his strength not to kiss her like a madman.

"I've thought about you every day since then," he confessed, his hand now toying with the braid that was slung loosely over one shoulder, "You're embedded into every fibre of my being, Hermione, and I could no more stop loving you than I could stop breathing."

Her gasp of surprise was lost as he finally pressed his lips to hers. Hermione whimpered a bit against his mouth at the sudden force of his desire but she quickly melted against him and returned his ardour with equal passion. Draco kissed her mouth first, quite thoroughly, and then every part of her upper body that was exposed to his greedy lips. Spinning them around swiftly, he pressed her against the wall with his lower body, returning to her mouth to kiss her senseless. Hermione breathed heavily and her head rolled back with a soft thunk against the doorjamb as his lips moved down once more to explore the hollow of her neck. He nibbled at the slender length of her throat, darting his tongue out to lick at her skin. She tasted even more divine than he had imagined in his turbulent fantasies. Like honey mixed with sharper spices of cinnamon and peppermint. He could hardly wrap his mind around it, except to resolve to taste every inch of her.

Draco felt a tugging at his hair and gladly allowed Hermione to pull him back up to her lips. She kissed him urgently, her mouth opening against his to taste each other. He felt rather than heard the vibration of her throaty moan as they kissed, heat scalding his stomach as he released his own strained sounds. Draco parted quickly from her and they panted in unison. As they were trying desperately to get their breath back, Hermione blinked up at him with a look of near wonderment at the realisation of the strength of his desire. The evidence was pressed, hard and throbbing, against her navel. Feeling fatalistic, he allowed himself the grim pleasure of stroking against her once or twice, feeling her curves against his cock before he drew her bottom lip between his in a final parting kiss.

"Sweet Merlin," he groaned against her lips in a husky whisper, "I can't seem to control myself around you. We need to stop…"

"Why?" Hermione asked softly, and he wanted to kiss her wildly all over again for the innocent question.

"Because I'm getting carried away," he told her, running his hands up her arms to grasp her face. He traced the shape of her swollen lips before dropping his forehead against hers once more, "And you deserve better."

Hermione shook her head numbly. She slid her hands over his chest, toying with the bit of skin exposed by his shirt.

"I want _you_ , Draco. Please let's just get carried away together…"

Her words washed over him like hot water and he felt that heat trace up his spine until he was arching against her again.

"Have you done this before? Any of this?" he asked in a voice that was barely more than a croak. She reddened at his question, and Draco saw her chew on her bottom lip as she contemplated him. Despite this, her pupils remained wide and dark with longing.

"Some…not much though. Not everything," she explained, stumbling over her words a bit, and Draco was pleased she didn't elaborate any further. He really didn't want to picture someone like that big oaf Viktor Krum pawing at her. He wasn't sure whether to be terrified or thrilled that she was still a virgin, though. He swallowed and licked his lips. They still tasted like her. But a small niggling doubt in the back of his mind lingered. He was still worried despite everything that she would come to regret this if they rushed.

"I don't think you really know what you're getting into, Hermione," he told her in a low voice, leaning down to place open mouthed kisses across her jaw and down her throat between each sentence he uttered. She shivered and prickled under the feel of his lips and his hot breath against her skin. "I want to kiss you everywhere. I want to strip every piece of clothing from your body. I want to feel you clench around my fingers, and taste how wet you are on my tongue. And then I want to bury myself inside you."

He thought there was a serious possibility that she would be scared off by his words, as he wanted to warn her by conveying the extent of what he was craving. But Hermione surprised him again. With a fierce look in her eyes, she placed an achingly slow kiss on his lips before sliding one hand down his chest and over his stomach to trace his hard length through his trousers. Draco grunted softly and dropped his head against the wall behind her shoulder, pressing into her and screwing his eyes shut tight.

"What are you waiting for then?" she challenged.

"Are you sure?" he panted, needing one last confirmation that he could finally touch her and make her his, all his other reservations crumbling around him.

" _Please…_ "

And this was the final straw for him. Hearing her breathy plea and knowing that she ached for this almost as much as he did roused him into action. Draco grasped her thighs and, without warning, lifted her into his arms. Hermione made a small sound of surprise but quickly wrapped her legs around his waist. Kissing her frantically now, Draco made short work of striding over to their dusty little couch in the front room. He lowered himself onto it, letting Hermione sit astride on top of him. She looked stunning above him, like a fiery siren hungering just for him. He kissed her as if he might die from the want of her lips, grappling with her clothes as he did. With surprising efficiency he slipped the shirt and bra from her body, exposing her breasts. He immediately took one rosy pink nipple into his mouth, sucking on it until she cried out and arched against him. At the sensation of his mouth on her, Hermione dropped her weight completely on top of him, grinding down unconsciously against his hard cock. Draco felt it throb impatiently and he grit his teeth to stem the need to come like a third year in his pants.

"Stop that," he begged when she continued to writhe on top of him. Hermione froze at his words but then gave him a smile drugged with power. She shifted her hips again deliberately to torment him. Draco's eyes rolled back into his head before he snapped them open, feeling half deranged with lust.

"Get up. Take off your jeans."

If she was offended by his commands then she didn't say so. And the sting was lessened by the fact that his voice did not sound particularly forceful, just desperate. She just smirked sinfully and stood before him. Draco watched her intently as she unbuttoned and unzipped herself, dragging her trousers and underwear down and off. At the same time he tried to scramble with his own clothes, pulling them from his body hastily and throwing them away to Merlin knew where. When Hermione returned to his lap, he could hardly bear the feel of her warm skin all over him. He wouldn't last.

Shifting slightly, Draco slid her off him to the side, spreading her out on the couch beneath him. He observed her heatedly for a moment, but hastened to fulfil all his earlier promises to her. He needed this. He had been in a constant state of yearning ever since that night over a year ago in the hospital wing when she had let him kiss her, her soft lips soothing him like a balm to his broken spirit. She had been an almost ethereal, healing angel in his mind since then. They had become connected in every way but one now. And he longed to take this final step and have her surround him completely.

The room went sort of fuzzy as he explored her body meticulously. His hand traced up her inner thigh, one finger stroking across her pink flesh and finding her so wet he actually groaned out loud.

" _Fuck,_ Hermione, you feel so good."

He murmured the words against her breast as he kissed the peak there and drew it into his mouth at the same time as he began circling her swollen clit. Hermione's mouth opened into a silent gasp as she stared up at the ceiling groggily, her hands gripping the plush material of the couch.

"Draco-"

Needing to feel her, Draco twisted his hand and lowered his finger to her entrance while he continued pleasuring her with his thumb. He entered her slowly with one finger, feeling how silky and tight she was around his digit. He wasn't sure who moaned louder. Hermione threw her head back while he buried his face into her chest and panted from the need to be inside her.

Adding a second finger, Draco allowed her to relax and stretch a bit around its width before he withdrew swiftly. He relished the whimper she released as she fumbled to grasp his hand and pull him back to her.

"I want to taste you," he murmured as he swatted her hand away, and felt her body tense underneath him. All too soon he had slid his body down hers and pressed his tongue against her wet centre. Hermione shuddered.

"Oh…ah…Dra…mm…oo…" her noises were incoherent; although he thought maybe he heard his name in there somewhere. Draco hummed in pleasure, getting lost in the taste and feel of her as he sucked and licked her most intimate area. He allowed one finger to lazily enter her again while he drew her clit into his mouth. It was all over surprisingly fast, he thought. As soon as he crooked his finger inside her and gave a particularly strong pull at her clit with the edge his teeth and tongue, she was lost. Hermione came with a sharp groan, her hands jerking up to grasp at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. All Draco heard was the rushing of blood in his ears and the faint sound of his name dripping urgently from her lips as though from a great distance. He dropped his head against her stomach, trying to ignore the pulsing of his cock against the cushion beneath him, not daring to move an inch.

Feeling her come on his tongue with her muscles clamping down around his finger had been the best sensation of his life. He would even be happy if she said she wasn't ready to go further now, although certain parts of his body were arguing quite strenuously with that thought. But he needn't have worried. He felt Hermione's fingers running through his hair, her fingernails tingling against his scalp and he lifted his head. She had a satisfied grin on her face and her eyes were piercing and needy.

"Holy shit," she muttered with a slight hint of awe, and Draco chuckled against her hipbone.

"You were sensational," he told her and enjoyed the blush on her face, which was apparent even though her cheeks were already a lovely shade of pink, "Hermione, I need you…"

She obviously heard the tone of want that tinged his voice and she grappled with his shoulders to tug him up towards her. Draco kissed her with unbridled passion. His arms were trembling as he wrapped them around her in order to hold onto the last remnants of his self-control. She frowned a bit at the taste of herself on his lips, but kissed him once more softly, drawing his bottom lip between her teeth.

"Don't you dare ask me if I'm sure again," she murmured against his mouth, her eyes raging with emotion. Draco choked out a relieved sigh. He nodded numbly and shifted to spread her legs wider beneath him, lowering himself into the cradle of her hips. He didn't need to check whether she was ready, he could feel how wet she was when he slid against her. As he held himself there on the precipice of bliss, Draco felt butterflies erupt in his stomach. His throat was dry and scratchy as he swallowed. His cock throbbed against her. Hermione's eyes fluttered closed in anticipation. He paused.

"Hermione…" he muttered through clenched teeth, "eyes on me. I want to see you."

She blinked but did as he asked, returning his stare with those soulful brown eyes so wide and trusting. His hips jerked forwards covetously. With his last speck of self-awareness he pressed his palm to her lower stomach and muttered a protection charm.

"Hold onto my shoulders. I want you to tell me if it hurts too much," Hermione wrapped her arms around him and her fingers dug into his upper back once again, "are you ready for me?"

At her nod, Draco finally pushed gently into her wet heat until the length of him was fully sheathed inside her. Although she was tight he met only slight resistance and Hermione's gasp was more one of surprise than pain. She blinked dazedly up at him at the sensation of being completely filled. Draco felt something dark and primal inside him at the feeling of her walls squeezing him. He froze for an impossibly long time, realising that he was already short of breath and he hadn't even started moving yet. He just wanted to bask in the exquisite feeling of being joined with Hermione. He could feel her all around him, slick and tight and so beautiful his heart was pounding like a drum beat against his ribs. She would surely feel it where their chests were pressing together.

Before he could compose himself, Draco felt Hermione thrust her hips upwards slightly to take him deeper, her eyes demanding _more_.

"My little lioness is eager…" he mumbled wryly, trying to focus his thoughts back onto her face instead of becoming lost in the tight grip of her legs which were entwined around his back and attempting to pull him in further, "You're making it very difficult for me to go slow, Hermione," he scolded her gently, placing a series of slightly messy, urgent kisses all across her lips and neck.

"Please move!" she begged, and her squirming finally got the best of him, especially as a low whine escaped her throat and vibrated against skin where they touched. Draco pulled back out and thrust in a few more times, listening to her breath hitch each time he bottomed out inside her.

"Fuck, Hermione, you're so tight...it feels…" his words ended on an incoherent groan. He propped himself upright, looking down on where they were joined with a stare of disbelief as her legs tightened around him.

" _Faster-_ "

He could not deny her anything, especially when she begged with such a pretty little moan. He started relentlessly pumping in and out of her, his hands wandering in heated excitement over her body, teasing her nipples and clit as his thrusts quickened. It was like an instant rush of addiction. Draco was normally a silver-tongued prince of Slytherin capable of some degree of eloquence no matter the situation. But now he lost track of where his mouth was running. He was distantly aware that his brain had just disengaged in this way, as words quickly poured from his lips. He told her she was beautiful using an endless catalogue of synonyms to do so. And as her walls began to tighten and spasm around him, his language deteriorated into coarseness. He let out a very long strings of swear words when she threw her head back, her walls milking him as she came. She was almost screaming now, a jumble of drawn out sounds and his name over and over. He was sure it was the most erotic sound he would ever hear. Draco gripped her hips so hard that if he were more in control of himself he would worry about bruising her. He succumbed to the burning heat in his balls and thrust into her one last time, deep enough to coat her walls with his seed with every pulse of his cock.

" _Hermione…fuck…fuck…_ "

Finally spent and still groaning her name on repeat, Draco collapsed. Still panting, he had enough sense to roll to the side to avoid crushing her. But Hermione didn't seem to mind; she just wrapped her arms around him and drew him closer. By the time he got his breathing relatively under control he could feel her hands stroking indolently through his hair and he blearily opened his eyes to meet her equally dazed stare.

 _Holy shit._

Draco hadn't realised that sex could be like that. More than just a physical release but a truly meaningful connection between two souls merging into one. He had never before felt comfortable enough to just lose himself completely in another person, needing their pleasure just as much if not more than his own. He sent a silent prayer of thanks to Salazar that he had lasted long enough to feel her tighten and come on his cock. Now his groin was aching and wet and he'd never felt better in his life.

"Is it always like that?" she asked sleepily. Draco snorted.

"Hell no. That was…"

He trailed off, unable to find words that seemed sufficient enough to convey what he was feeling. Hermione pursed her lips thoughtfully and nodded.

"I didn't expect it to be so…easy," she said. Draco cocked an eyebrow up at her, feeling a bit confused by the term. She blushed and shrugged self-consciously, "I mean for my first time."

He felt a wave of understanding and reached up to smooth her tangled curls off her face. They had escaped her braid some time ago and were spilling wildly over the couch.

"I didn't hurt you?" he inquired gently and Hermione shook her head.

"I expected it to hurt. Girls always say that about their first time. But…it just felt…strange at first, and then wonderful."

Draco grinned smugly, earning himself a smack on the shoulder. He gave her a quick peck on the lips and then sobered.

"Hermione, I have wanted to do that to you for a very long time."

"Have you really felt that way since fifth year?"

He nodded, feeling a bit self-conscious, but Hermione just snuggled in close to him and lifted a hand to stroke reassuring patterns on the skin of his chest.

"I always knew that something had changed that night, inside me as well. After that we became…bound to each other somehow."

Draco hummed in agreement. But a lot of his concentration had moved to the finger tracing imaginary lines on his skin, trailing down further over the muscles of his stomach and across his hip. He felt himself twitch and harden a bit in response to her wandering hand. He wondered how he could feel such a rush of desire so soon after spending himself inside her. But this was clearly outside his normal experience.

"What now?" Hermione asked, her voice quiet and a little bit hoarse from screaming as it interrupted his straying thoughts.

"Now…" Draco smirked and grabbed her hand, lifting it to his mouth where he proceeded to kiss each of her fingertips, "Now I get to explore."

Hermione chuckled as he sucked one digit into his mouth, twisting her body around more to face him.

"Explore what?"

" _You_."

And then he was lifting her up on top of him and pressing his mouth to her skin with no thought in the world other than the pure unadulterated need to lose himself in Hermione Granger all over again until they were both exhausted and sated. He planned to stay up all night achieving this.

….

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 **Well…there you go. Hope you enjoyed your lemons, as it always feels slightly awkward writing them. More plot to come in the next offering. Please review.**


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen**

 **I should mention that I do actually have a plan properly written down for where this story is going. But somehow whenever I start typing the characters just choose their own actions independently of me… and it's very confusing! So my ultimate ending is still a bit up in the air now. Help! As always, JKR is much better at this writing business as she created the magnificent story we all adore.**

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It was probably sometime in the early morning, judging by the sickly grey colour of the sun peeking in through the window, when Hermione awoke. It took her a while to drag herself from a pleasant dream she'd been having, but nature was calling so she slipped silently out of bed. The floors were like ice on her bare feet. She cursed and winced as she washed her face and hands in the chilly water of the upstairs bathroom. When she was done she gladly launched herself back through the door and onto the bed, burrowing under the covers once more and wriggling her toes to warm them up again.

Hermione fiddled unconsciously with the pendant that was resting against the skin just below her collarbone. She tilted her head to the side and observed the sleeping form next to her with a gentle smile. Draco looked so peaceful and untroubled when he was asleep. He seemed so innocent, so vulnerable. It reminded her that they were both too young to be involved in any of this. Although she missed the squishy comfort of the old couch in the living room, it was rather nice to be in a bed again. Draco had finally finished fixing up the bedroom – it turned out he was a fairly skilled carpenter now he had his wand back – and Hermione had been pleasantly surprised. The bed was big and so comfortable. She loved the way he had tidied up the window alcove and added a long seat with cushions to lounge on and gaze out the window to the view of the valley sprawling below. But mostly Hermione was yearning to fill up his beautiful oak shelves with hundreds of books to make it really feel like home. She had to actually remind herself quite often that, although she was a secret keeper, the house didn't actually belong to her.

Hermione lifted a hand to brush a few strands of pale blond hair back from Draco's forehead. If she had held any doubts at all about his feelings towards her, they had been quickly dispelled over the course of the last week. She couldn't help but smile softly to herself when she remembered the first dizzying time they slept together just three days ago. It had been a revelation. She had always assumed that a girl's first time was supposed to be an awkward fumbling that resulted in pain and ultimately little satisfaction. Of course logically she understood that this would improve over time, but based on stories from Pavarti and Lavender and the older girls at school, she had been somewhat dreading losing her virginity. What she hadn't expected was Draco. Against all her assumptions about her first time, he had been so passionate, both giving pleasure and demanding things from her with a desperation that made her feel sexy and almost empowered. Just the intensity of his expression when he was staring at her body between kisses had been enough to make her feel more aroused than she ever had been before. And then he had managed to wind her up so high and make her feel so flushed that all she could think about was having him quench the sharp ache that had begun inside her. It had felt so odd at first being stretched around him, but once he had stilled inside her, she had felt this ravenous tingling start to crawl from between her thighs right down to her toes and up her spine. She wanted _more._ She had begged him to move. And as he buried himself inside her again and again, she had dimly recognised the signs of an orgasm approaching, but had still been taken by surprise. It had felt deeper somehow, numbing her all over. Nothing like what she had experienced by herself. She could have sworn she blacked out for a moment at the peak, but not for so long that she didn't get to watch his own climax. His face had twisted up as if he was in pain, and his whole body had been trembling against her as his expression morphed into one of absolute bliss. She had immediately wanted to capture that look, his total abandonment of control, and replay it over and over again in her mind.

Hermione's smile stretched into a lazy grin as she snuggled in close to Draco's naked chest, resting her head on his shoulder. In the three days since that first experience she had been well and truly spoilt with that same sight so many times that she had lost count. Draco was insatiable. It was like the flood gates had opened and now they both felt bereft if they weren't touching each other in some way. Of course they had spent many daylight hours separately working on the house as before, but it was never too long until Draco was tracking her down and searing her lips with his heated kisses. And it more often than not led to more than just kissing.

With a shiver, Hermione could recall a few significant memories that made her cheeks redden, all from just the last three days. She would never forget the way she had woken up very early the following morning while it was still mostly dark outside, with Draco's mouth trailing a little frantically over her skin.

" _Please, Hermione… I need to taste you. I need to feel you come apart on my tongue._ "

Any timidity or embarrassment she may have felt about that particular act had been quickly buried under the husky force of his voice. How could she feel shy when he was so obviously hungry for her? When it brought _him_ so much pleasure? And soon enough his groans and the voracious attentions she received put a stop to any lingering reservations. It seemed to be something he liked repeating often, as she discovered over the next two days. It wasn't unusual for him to get a gleam in his eye and beg to feel her on his tongue.

Hermione of course had been a bit nervous about returning the favour. It was something she had never done previously; she hadn't even really contemplated it much before, not even in the abstract. But then as things had started escalating with Draco and she had witnessed his own enjoyment of pleasuring her with his tongue, it had taken root in her mind. Against all her expectations she had started to think nonstop about what it would feel like to have him in her mouth. She imagined his expression when he had his orgasm; that wild, half-deranged ecstasy that always made her feel drugged with power. She pictured in detail the feeling of his hands grabbing onto her curls as he climbed the precipice and begged her to let him come in her mouth. These thoughts had consumed her until the previous morning in the shower when, seeing him so pink and perfect in the hot water she had not been able to resist dropping to her knees and giving it a go. And Draco's reaction had certainly not disappointed.

He never disappointed her.

All varieties of sex with Draco seemed to be just pure, unpredictable and natural. And last night had been a perfect example of this. Just when she thought that he was going to stop torturing her with his lips and fingers and take her already, a truly wicked grin had formed on his face. He had swiftly flipped her over until she was sprawled out on her stomach, pressing his chest against her back and laying lightly on top of her.

" _You're so wet for me,_ "

He had growled the words teasingly, but Hermione had been too wound up by then. She had started grinding her hips up against him and telling him to stop being such a fucking bastard and just do it already. Her bossy words had been more than effective. Although she did like seeing his face and watching him come, there had been something very erotic about the way he had entered her from behind, laving kisses across the nape of her neck and down her spine as she bit down hard on the pillowcase beneath her.

Hermione was pulled from her hazy thoughts by the squirming of the body underneath her cheek. Draco murmured something inaudible and then his arm twitched a bit as he woke up. He always roused a little unsteadily in the mornings, and she couldn't really blame him. Falling asleep happy and sated had certainly made a difference to his mental state, but he still suffered terrible nightmares. His sleep was often too short or just plan troubled.

"Morning," he grumbled, shifting to place a gentle kiss against her forehead. Hermione lifted her head, resting it on one hand that was propped against his chest.

"Hey," she said gently in response, frowning when she saw the slight redness in his eyes that revealed how tired he really was.

"Am I still asleep or are we really lying here naked together?"

"You're most definitely awake."

Draco smiled, a hint of something cheeky in his gaze.

"That's odd. Because it feels like a very wonderful dream."

Hermione groaned, giving his skin a little pinch.

"You're such a dork. You've said that three mornings in a row now."

"Yeh well excuse me if I'm still having trouble believing that this is actually real."

She just rolled her eyes and snorted softly at him. His grin remained, though, as he stroked his fingers lazily through her hair.

"You were amazing last night."

"You say that every morning too," she commented, but he didn't seem phased. He lay in silence for a long time, his eyes still pained by some remnant of his nightmares, but his body was relaxed and warm under hers. He may not have admitted it to himself, but Draco was clearly struggling to reconcile the horror of the past few months of his life with this sudden peace he found himself in. Although passionate and almost greedy when it came to physical sensations, he was slow to accept that her emotions and her affection for him were real. He had shown wariness about trying new things (outside the bedroom) such as restoring the house or cooking and cleaning. It was as if he battled with the idea that a simple, quiet life could be so fulfilling. Or maybe he was just shell-shocked. Either way, Hermione was painfully aware of the need to be patient and understanding through every new barrier they encountered. As he lay there now tracing patterns on her arm, she wondered where his mind was drifting. A slightly glassy look was in his eyes that made her heart clench with concern. She felt like she was intruding on a very private moment in which Draco was trying to process his emotions towards something, maybe some terror from the past he had recalled in a dream. With this in mind, she pushed herself off him slowly and sat up, drawing the sheets coyly around her naked breasts.

"I'm going to go have a nice soak in the shower," she told him casually, giving him a tender smile and heading towards the bathroom. She wanted to give him the easy choice to either have space to deal with whatever he was remembering, or to seek her company to help him forget. Her hand was actually resting on the doorknob to the bathroom when she heard his voice.

"Wait!"

Hermione paused and tossed a questioning look over her shoulder. She was aware that the sheet had been left on the bed and she was completely bare from head to toe. The slack, distant look in Draco's eyes had vanished as he stared at her. That heated gaze she had come to love had replaced the scary expression of torment that existed there just moments ago. No one else had ever looked at her like this. She patiently waited for him to voice what he wanted, trying not to feel self-conscious about her nudity. But it was difficult to care when Draco looked like he wanted to eat her up.

"Can…can I… can we…?" he stammered incoherently for a few moments before his nervousness shifted into a sort of frown of determination. He slid forwards on the bed facing her and a muscle visibly clenched in his jaw as his eyes devoured her. When he spoke again his tone had lowered to a growl. "I want you."

Hermione smiled at him, already feeling a tingle of anticipation as she thought of their warm bodies entwined in the shower. She would do anything to pull him back from the brink of despair he would sink into when he relived his past, but it certainly helped that she was longing for him just as much as he evidently was for her, judging on the significant tent in the sheet at his lap.

Without needing any words at all, she lifted her hand up, beckoning for him to come to her. And in an instant Draco had leapt to his feet, grabbed her hand and practically dragged her into the bathroom.

….

….

….

It wasn't until later that night after a hard day's work (minus a few distractions) that Draco felt like he was really ready to open up to her. He had observed Hermione closely that morning during and after their shower, realising that she was treating him much more carefully, more gently, than usual. He figured at first that she might be sore. It wasn't as if he had gone easy on her after her first time and he felt a twinge of guilt at the thought that maybe he'd pushed her too far. He was certainly aware that his desire had turned into a sort of mindless physical addiction. But that morning she had treated him so tenderly and he had responded. They had caressed each other and taken their time without any sense of urgency. It had been…perfect, actually. Once they slowed down he could just revel in the feelings he had for her. His heart had pounded more forcefully in his chest than any time previous. It had been like basking in Hermione and the acceptance she offered him so freely.

It had roused a stirring of something inside him. Something that he had puzzled over for many hours today as he worked. For a while he had been confused about the feeling of calm that had settled over him. But then he figured it out. There was this new compulsion to share his suffering with her, to trust her with his heartache. It suddenly felt like confessing his past to Hermione was something that would start to heal him, not just bring him more pain.

They lay together now, curled up on the window seat in the bedroom and gazing down at the valley before. Hermione had made them both some hot chocolate, and he drained the dregs of it contentedly from his mug, feeling at peace. The memories could not hurt him here, he realised. Not with Hermione lying so softly against his chest with their fingers intertwined. But still, to give him the courage to continue, Draco took a deep breath against her neck, allowing her scent of lavender and honey to wash over him.

"Can I show you something?" he murmured into her ear. He felt Hermione's assent in the movement of her head nodding against his shoulder rather than a verbal response. But she also released a slight humming sound that vibrated through her and into his chest. It gave him even more strength to continue. He slowly pushed up the sleeve of his shirt from the wrist. As he did, the Dark Mark on his forearm was exposed. A tremor of nerves ran through him. Although she had seen it before, of course, he had always tried to keep it partially hidden or at least subtle. Even when they were stark naked and lost in each other, he attempted to keep his arm twisted away from her sight. Until now this was because it made him feel ashamed and unworthy. But not anymore.

Hermione made a whining sound of sympathy as he held it up to the moonlight. She reached up to run her fingertips over it. A shudder overwhelmed him before he could speak again. The gentle action was so very _her_ that it took him a moment to collect himself.

"I didn't think I would ever feel more pain in my life than the night they gave me this," he started, his voice husky. Hermione nestled further into him. She was attentive but relaxed, knowing that he needed to say this and letting him do so without any fuss or drama. "I had to pretend I wanted it. I didn't have a choice. They had my mother there and Bellatrix was lurking over her… I got the message loud and clear. I couldn't put her life in danger. I had to smile…" Draco shivered, remembering the feeling of disgust at having to appear pleased with what was happening. "And the Dark Lo… _he_ was terrifying. His face was like a skull, lifeless and demonic. I remember he put his hand on my cheek, and I thought I was going to be sick. Thank Salazar he didn't read my mind. But he just waved me away towards the Death Eaters who were waiting. They gave me something to bite down on then one of them pressed their wand to my arm…"

He felt Hermione squirm softly against him and he could only imagine that the pain in her eyes would mirror his own.

"And yet, despite how excruciating that was… it was nothing compared to _this_ one."

He pointed shakily to a scar slightly further up his arm. It was a thick, ropey line, puckered, red and jagged as it circled his arm just below the elbow. He had to swallow the painful lump stuck in his throat. Hermione tilted her head to press her lips softly against his throat where she had burrowed herself. His mouth felt like ash as he began to speak again.

"There was this muggle family that Bellatrix was torturing. She was playing with them, as she usually liked to do. Sadistic bitch. It was a couple and their two children. At that time I was desperately trying to shut everything out. I hid in my room most days. I... I was such a coward. I just locked and warded the door to my bedroom, blocking out all the screams. My mother was with me that day. I preferred to keep her with me. She kept mumbling something about not getting blood on the ancient carpets. About being nice to guests. I had to keep her calm, she was out of her mind and just kept rambling about needing to make things clean. And when I turned my back for just a moment, she got out. I went after her and she was standing in the drawing room. There was a boy tied up there, about eight or nine. He was alone. I guessed that he'd been left there for Greyback. My mother was cooing over him and petting his hair. He had blond hair, but it was all matted and filthy.

The way she was talking to him it was almost like she thought he was _me_. She kept telling him how much she would miss him when he went to Hogwarts and then she wet a handkerchief and was wiping dirt from his face and saying that father expected him to look his best when their guests arrived. I wanted to pull her away, but strangely the boy seemed almost comforted by her. He was still terrified and confused, and eventually he asked for some food. And…and so I gave him some. I called one of the house elves for some bread…"

He felt a slight dampness against his neck and he knew that Hermione had started crying. He didn't blame her. His voice sounded haunted and weak even to his own ears. And her compassion was as fierce as her intelligence. He distantly wondered if it had been cruel to share such a burden with her. But he knew that she deserved the truth about what he had gone through, even if it hurt.

"You got caught, didn't you?" she muttered pitifully against his skin, her hands curling into fists around his shirt. Draco nodded against her hair. His eyes focused on a sliver of moonlight that was falling softly onto the garden at the front of the house, reflected in the pale glow of Hermione's skin.

"Yes. Bellatrix came in. She found us feeding the child, with mother holding him in an embrace. I don't remember her ever hugging me like that. She'd become almost completely broken by this point."

"And the boy?" she whispered fearfully.

"The moment she walked in, Bellatrix was furious. She had this gleam of insanity in her eyes. You have to understand…" he paused, contemplating his nightmarish memories of his aunt and the way she had haunted Malfoy manor like a dark spirit. It still made his skin crawl. "Bellatrix is completely devoid of all humanity. A husk of a person, really, filled only with bitterness and hatred. She had no sooner taken in the scene before her as she flicked her wand almost casually and in a flash of green light the boy was crumpled on the floor, dead."

Hermione gasped, her fingers tightening their grip on him as the gasp turned into a horrified moan. Draco barely flinched at her reaction, too swept up in the memory as he continued.

"Mother just sat there holding his body, not even seeing her sister there. She just kept saying sweet things to him and rocking him back and forth. Bellatrix ignored her. But I wasn't so lucky. That's when I got this," he gestured to the hideous scar again, "she told me that I wasn't worthy of having the Dark Mark. She kept yelling and saying she was going to slice it from my body so that I would be deformed by my disgrace. She was completely insane, of course. Came at me with a knife. I've…I've never… felt pain like it. But then Lucius came in and stopped her before she succeeded. Though I don't think he cared about me as much as he cared about what it would look like to You-Know-Who if I suddenly had no Dark Mark."

By this point Hermione's body was shaking with sobs. It was only then that he realised his own face was wet with tears that had been silently streaming down his cheeks for some time. His hands knotted deep in Hermione's curls like they were an anchor. He could feel how violently he was trembling. He leaned his head back to press against the wall behind him and tried to gulp back his tears. Numbly he felt Hermione wriggle around on the window seat until she was propped up on her knees looking at him. It was the first time their eyes had met since he had begun his story. Quivering fretfully, she reached out with one hand and ran her fingertips down his cheeks, brushing off his tears.

"Oh Draco…"

Her voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper. Then she leaned in and pressed her forehead against his so that they could feel each other breathing in and out. Draco's whole body had been tense and on edge as he spoke. But now, with Hermione's fingers stroking over his jaw so tenderly and the scent of her skin washing over him, he felt himself start to calm. When she drew back, her nose was red and puffy from crying. Her bottom lip was quivering slightly and she sniffled.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that," she told him, her beautiful brown eyes wide and swimming with compassion. It was like a gentle rainfall trickling over his body after a long drought. Draco nodded dully.

"I just…I wanted you to know. What it was like for me there, I mean."

In response, Hermione slowly moved in and placed an achingly sweet kiss on his bottom lip. Her mouth was slightly salty from their combined tears. He almost felt like he wanted to smile at her, but his cheeks were stiff and uncooperative. Instead he just enveloped her in his arms and pulled her in close.

"Thank you for telling me," she murmured.

Draco shook his head and wrapped one of her long curls around his finger. He watched its silky weight bend into a coil and spring back.

"No, thank _you._ For believing in me. For giving me a chance. I don't deserve your forgiveness or your kindness, you know."

Hermione gave his shoulder a light bump as she relaxed against him.

"Yes you do. You're a better man than you realise."

A muscle twitched in Draco's jaw and he tightened his grip on her. He tried to grapple with the dual feelings of delight and self-hatred that filled him. There was nothing on this earth, he was sure, that could surpass the pleasure that Hermione's words brought him. Her faith in him was truly humbling. But competing with that was the overwhelming sense that he was unworthy of such mercy. She was most definitely too good for him.

"You have truly terrible taste in men," he commented at last when he felt capable of speaking. Hermione snorted softly. With a lazy flick of her wand she summoned a patchwork quilt from the end of the bed and settled it around them. Under the blanket, with Hermione nestled against him, Draco felt warm and safe.

"I think it's steadily improving-" she responded wryly and then they fell silent. Draco pressed his face against her neck and took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly. They stung a bit from crying but he ignored that as he kissed her throat right over where her pulse thrummed. The last of the tension left his muscles as Hermione hummed and slid closer to him. Instead Draco felt a different kind of tightening in his navel. He ran his nose up and down her neck, leaving gentle kisses along her skin. He kept thinking of _those three words_ on repeat. He had fallen asleep at night whispering them silently against her skin, but had been too afraid to say them out loud a second time for fear that she wouldn't be able to return them yet.

 _I love you._

 _Merlin help me, I love you so much Hermione…_

Draco pushed the urge to vocalise it away, feeling instead the pure weight of the emotion wash over him. As his lips moved lower across her collarbone and the gentle swell of her chest, he focused on the all-consuming need to sink himself deep inside her. Draco felt like he had ripped himself open in front of her tonight, baring his soul more than he ever had before to anyone. And now he desperately needed to lose himself in her, surrounded by the balm of her kindness and enflamed by their shared heartbeats pressed together.

And with every kiss and every touch she gave him and he gave in return, another small fragment of his damaged and demented soul was pieced back together.

….

….

….

 _Bang Bang Bang Bang…_

Draco shot upright in bed, woken abruptly by the insistent hammering on the front door. It was pitch black and his brain struggled to free itself from the cobwebs of a deep sleep.

"Hermione? Draco?"

Hermione jumped up as well, sharing a stunned look with him as she scrambled for her clothes. He threw on his own as quickly as possible, his heart pounding in sudden fear.

"It's Andromeda," Hermione muttered unnecessarily. Maybe she was just trying to reassure herself that they weren't being attacked. But with only two secret keepers he already knew it was his aunt at their door. Her voice was recognizable too; it reminded him of his mother. Though now as she yelled their names it sounded more frantic than he'd ever heard before. The two of them raced downstairs together, flinging the door open to usher Andromeda inside and away from the cold, roaring winds of the valley. It must have been raining wherever she came from because her clothes were soaked through. Hermione jabbed her wand at the grate on the far side of the room and a charmed fire sprang to life, casting a flickering blue light over the room.

"Andromeda! What is it?"

The older woman pace back and forth with a sense of agitation, her eyes darting between them both. When she didn't speak Draco's anxiety intensified until he could hardly stand still. Eventually she froze and spun to face them, her eyes going straight to Hermione's.

"The Order received an urgent message about half an hour ago. One of Dumbledore's… _friends_ … managed to see a glimpse of something in an old fragment of mirror-"

Hermione slapped her hands across her mouth.

" _Harry_? You're talking about Harry and Ron, aren't you?"

Andromeda nodded and watched with a pained expression as the curly haired girl moaned in fright and clutched at her face. Her fingernails dug into her cheeks as she went as white as a ghost.

"What happened? What do you know?" she demanded in a panicked voice. Draco watched in horror as his aunt delivered the news. The whole room seemed to go dark around them as the terrible words echoed across the space. And all he could see was Hermione's wide, horrified eyes blown open with pure shock.

"They were captured by snatchers. They've been taken to Malfoy manor."

….

….

….

 **Oh my god that was such a mean cliff hanger! I apologize profusely. But the plot of Deathly Hallows was beckoning! Please review!**


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Chapter Fourteen**

 **Back again with a new chapter, continuing straight on from the cliff hanger. Work is consuming my life right now, difficult to find time to write. But I'm persevering with extreme stubbornness. As always, JKR is the real headmaster of Hogwarts!**

….

….

Hermione's head was spinning as the room darkened around her. The already dim candlelight seemed somehow hazy and indistinct. The sudden, even brighter glow of Andromeda's wand made a vein in her temple throb defiantly. As if he was speaking from a great distance, she could hear Draco's voice telling her to take deep breaths as he helped lower her onto the couch. She vaguely felt his hand rubbing her back and she focused on the soothing sensation. Slowly she was able to concentrate on his face; his furrowed brows and his lips pursed with concern. She swallowed a dry lump in her throat.

"How much could they see? Are Harry and Ron okay? Are they alive?"

Her voice was croaky and panicked and she winced at the bleak thought that it might already be too late. Andromeda sighed and leaned against the mantle over the fireplace.

"We don't know many details. The informant told us that he could see Harry and that he appeared to be locked up somewhere dark…"

She was looking at Draco as he said this and he nodded quickly.

"One of the cellars, probably. It's a series of old underground rooms where prisoners have been kept lately. I remember father had a goblin in there, though I don't know why."

Hermione looked rapidly between the blond haired boy and his aunt.

"Can we get in there? Surely you could apparate us there if you know it."

She was already jumping to her feet when Draco shook his head.

"The place is warded too heavily. As I told the Order before, since the Dark Lord added his own protections the whole manor has been rigged with curses and traps to stop intruders. Even I can't just appear there now that I've left. I would need an _invitation_ charm cast on me. They would have changed the wards since I left, because they always renewed them every week or so _._ He's a paranoid psychopath, remember? I'm sorry, Hermione… but I can't get us in there."

Draco appeared truly apologetic as he spoke. His face was downcast and she knew that he felt ashamed that he couldn't offer a solution. Hermione grasped his hand, giving it a tight squeeze. She was sure he would feel her fingers trembling in his.

"Okay. Well what _can_ we do?"

Andromeda shook her head.

"I don't know. The Order are discussing the situation too, but they're also at a loss. We can't get in, and even if we did, You Know Who is there…"

Draco hummed thoughtfully, his grip on her hand tightening too.

"He might not be. That last month I was still living there, he was rarely in residence. He was travelling somewhere on his own mission we knew nothing about."

Hermione let out a breath and her heart lifted slightly even though it was still pounding painfully against her ribs.

"That's good, isn't it? If he's not there…"

Draco shrugged worriedly, chewing on his bottom lip.

"Maybe. But if they've truly captured the infamous Harry Potter, I doubt Lucius and Bellatrix would have waited long before calling for him. They would both be too eager for the glory of handing him the Chosen One."

Hermione's stomach clenched and rippled with nausea.

"Oh God! Oh god… Please, I have to get to them somehow. I have to-"

Hermione froze and pulled away. Her eyes went round as she stared at the two other people in the room, not really seeing them. Her mind had just come to a halt as something struck her.

"The coin…"

Without pausing to explain, she dashed up to the bedroom where her beaded bag lay. Tearing it open she fumbled around inside for a few moments in aggravation. When that didn't work because her hands were too shaky, she grappled on the bedside table for her wand.

"Accio galleon!"

The little piece of gold flew into her hand. She raced back downstairs with it clutched inside her white-knuckled fist. The metal was cold.

"We were supposed to leave messages for each other using _this_ if anything went wrong…" she told the two people there who were pacing back and forth anxiously and speaking together in low voices. Draco and Andromeda gathered close to inspect the galleon over her shoulder. Hermione flipped the little coin around and inspected the letters around the top. Nothing had changed since the last time she had used it. No message from Harry. No clue of anything that had happened. She sighed with disappointment.

"Is it a protean charm?" Andromeda asked.

"Yes," she murmured, placing it in her palm and tapping it with her wand to prepare her own message to send through.

"That's very advanced magic."

She didn't respond to Andromeda's praise, just focused on the letters she would use to get in touch with Harry.

 _RUOK?WHRU?_

Hermione let out a shaky breath and leaned her head into her hands. Her head was throbbing as she stared down at the galleon, willing it to send her a reply. She recognised a warm weight on her back and knew that Draco was trying to keep her calm again. But when she lifted her head and looked into his eyes she could see that he too appeared tormented and afraid.

 _What happened? What went wrong?_ She wondered to herself, her thoughts a chaotic jumble as she tried to make sense of it all. The wards she had used and taught the boys were strong, and the tent itself held a wide range of charms that would prevent it from being detected or seen. If they did everything as normal, it would be impossible for snatchers to just stumble upon them. Unless they went investigating somewhere stupid looking for horcruxes or called attention to themselves somehow…

The slight weight of the coin in her palm suddenly burned. Hermione choked on a gasp and stared at it unseeingly for a moment in fright. The words started to form slowly.

"He's replying!" she exclaimed, drawing the attention of Draco and Andromeda again as well. As each letter formed she watched them in puzzlement, before taking in the message as a whole.

 _.REDWNE_

The letters stretched around the entire circumference of the coin. They were almost too tiny to read. But as she observed them closely, she turned them over in her head, trying to figure it out.

"Taboo…" she muttered to herself, "One of them must have said You-Know-Who's name," she concluded with a groan. Andromeda also released a pained grunt, probably sharing her frustration, "Those _bloody_ fools!"

She could not suppress the feeling of rage that rose up inside her, cursing them for their stupidity. To risk losing so much over something so silly… Hermione grit her teeth together hard enough that her jaw ached. Burying her anger as best she could, she pondered the next two letters.

"M…M?"

Draco made a humming sound and pointed his finger at the coin insistently.

"Malfoy Manor, right? They wouldn't realise that you already know that."

Hermione nodded. It made sense. Harry would be most likely to communicate the very basics of what had happened and where he had been taken. But it was the last part that confused her.

"Red wine?"

Andromeda shook her head, mystified. It didn't mean anything to her, either. But then Hermione looked up at Draco again and noticed that he was thinking very carefully. His eyes had gone slightly distant and he was tapping his foot against the floor.

"What is it?" she asked urgently, the galleon grasped tightly in her hand as though it was a lifeline. Her pulse had been racing so fast she felt almost dizzy by now. Draco blinked and looked up.

"Red wine… It must be a clue about the cellars!" he reasoned out loud, explaining his thoughts, "They're sprawled out all over the manor, but each one has a purpose. I don't normally go anywhere near them so I'm not entirely certain. But I think that Lucius has one designated for drink and spirits. He's quite fond of Dragon's Tonic. To someone like Potter it would look a bit like muggle red wine."

Hermione nodded hurriedly, the galleon feeling warm and slippery as it rested in her palm.

"So he's really there…" she breathed to herself as the unhappy truth was confirmed. A shuddering sob wracked her body and she slapped her hand over her mouth. Andromeda grasped her shoulder firmly, giving her a pained look and rubbing her upper arms comfortingly.

"I'm sure the Order can do something… There must be a way to get in there," she reassured, "Draco, do you know where exactly in the manor that particular cellar is located? That might help."

Draco looked distressed. He paced in front of the fireplace with a dark scowl.

"I don't know, I never went down there! It was just for storage. Only the house elves…"

At that moment he stiffened and stopped suddenly mid step. Hermione's heart skipped watching him. His steely, troubled eyes widened as he spun around to stare at her. A look of agitation overcame him as he raised his hands up in realisation.

"The…they…that's it… yes, that's it!" he stammered, striding back over with an expression of dawning hopefulness.

"What is it?" Hermione pressed, her own heartbeat starting to race faster and faster again.

"The house elves! Don't you see? It's _their_ area of the house. They work there, sleep there, eat there."

She frowned at him in confusion.

"Okay… how does that help us?"

Andromeda was clearly following along though, and Hermione figured it must be one of those ancient things about house elves that she didn't understand. The older woman gave him sharp, calculating look as she considered his point, interrupting him before he could explain himself.

"But surely the Malfoy elves would have responded to your abandonment and broken their bond by now, yes?"

Draco nodded.

"How did you know?" he asked.

She shrugged stiffly.

"Shortly after I left and ran away with Ted to get married…" she paused, grimacing in pain at the difficult memory, "…I tried calling for one of the old Black family elves who used to be kind to me when I was little. Gippy was her name. But she couldn't come to me. I never saw her again."

"I didn't realise it would happen either," he told them both, looking sad for a moment, "But sure enough, ever since I left, the elves won't answer me. They can sense that I've deserted the family."

Hermione blinked as she started to see what he was getting at.

"But you think a Malfoy house elf _could_ get in there? Through the wards and into the cellar, I mean."

He nodded firmly, his mouth set into a stubborn frown. Her stomach rolled a bit, wishing that it was as simple as calling one of them to help. But it sounded like the ancient magic tying house elves to their families was more than a little complicated. Draco and his aunt both seemed fairly certain that he would not be able to just summon one, not with the fracture in the magical bond that was no longer tying him to the Malfoy house.

" _But,_ " he continued on with a slightly wicked smirk, "there is one house elf who could help us."

Hermione gaped at him, an idea forming in her mind of one particular elf he might possibly be referring to.

"You don't mean…"

"Dobby," he interrupted hurriedly before she could finish, looking rather devious, "I bet you anything he can still access every square inch of that house. "

"But he was freed. Surely he can't get into the house," she argued, but Draco shook his head. His eyes were alight with the plan that she could see forming more and more clearly in his mind.

"No, actually. Dobby _chose_ to defy his servitude. Every day since that incident in our second year, Dobby has _chosen_ not to serve us, but that doesn't mean the bond doesn't still exist in some form or other inside him. I mean, think about it. Lucius never meant to give him that sock. Imagine if every house elf suddenly became free whenever they accidentally came into contact with clothes. They'd never get any laundry done for a start!"

Hermione pursed her lips, knowing that for once in her life now was _not_ the right time to get into a fight about hose elf rights. Draco continued eagerly,

"Dobby was always a bit…odd. He hated my father and the feeling was certainly mutual. But technically he was never actually _presented_ with clothes. He just grabbed the opportunity to justify his leaving to himself. And house elf magic is strange. They can get past most wards and charms if their master calls. You can't sever a bond with a house elf very easily. Unlike me, he could probably still access that cellar."

As he spoke, Hermione felt a small slither of courage blossom inside her stomach and spread out through her body. She found herself fidgeting restlessly, keenly even, as she contemplated the idea. Andromeda shrugged and smirked as well.

"It sounds plausible," she said shortly, and Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Can you call him?"

Draco shrugged and his lip twitched.

"I can try."

As he took a deep breath and tightened his grip on his wand, Hermione felt the sharp ache of her earlier abject terror fade into a sort of strange, determined calm. In the face of Draco's sudden confidence she felt reassured. Mere minutes ago, it had all seemed so hopeless. But now maybe there was a slim chance that she could help them. That was what she desperately wanted now. At the start of their journey this year she had made a commitment to Harry and to their quest. She had been willing to give her life to help him. And no matter what happened or what might have come between them since then, she would honour the vow she made to herself to do everything in her ability to make sure her friend survived this war, to truly become the boy who lived. Draco cleared his throat a bit uncertainly and spoke to the ceiling.

"Dobby?"

When there was no reply he raised his voice more loudly.

"Dobby!"

Another silence followed. Draco exchanged a worried look with his aunt, but just as he opened his mouth to speak for a third time, there was a distinctive pop behind them. The three humans spun around to see the little elf, who stood perched on top of the coffee table there. His eyes were round and bulging as he surveyed the room with a wary gaze. His bony little fingers were twisting together nervously.

"Ma…master…Draco?" he stammered in a high, squeaky voice. Draco gave a sort of grimace as if he tried to smile but couldn't quite muster it.

"Um…hi Dobby."

The elf looked very puzzled as he blinked up at the blond Slytherin boy.

"Dobby is hearing you calling. But you isn't calling Dobby for over a year!"

Draco shuffled a bit in embarrassment. He glanced at Hermione guiltily and shrugged one shoulder up and down.

"He actually used to bring me food when I was working in the Room of Requirement during sixth year," he explained, "When I first saw him working at Hogwarts… well, let's just say we started talking again. Sort of. More like he took care of me while I moped around a lot."

This drew the elf's attention to the two women who were also in the room. Hermione noticed that as Dobby's eyes moved over to her he squealed and nearly fell off the table.

"Miss Hermninny!"

"Hello Dobby," she said with a shaky smile, although she was starting to feel slightly impatient. They were running out of time.

"Is Harry Potter here too?" the elf called out excitedly, his head swivelling around the room as if the boy would be hiding somewhere waiting to surprise him.

"No, Dobby," Draco explained gently, taking over again. He leaned down next to the elf, "That's actually why I called you here. Potter is in trouble."

Almost immediately the elf's whole face dropped and his eyes glistened with tears, ears pointed down towards the floor.

"Harry Potter in trouble?"

"Yes, we were hoping you could help us. He's being held captive in Malfoy Manor in one of the cellars. Do you think you would still be able to get in there?"

The elf nodded hurriedly, his little body trembling with sudden fear at the thought of his hero in danger.

"Dobby sometimes checked on master Draco after he left Hogwarts. I is coming and going from the house without anyone seeing. Dobby's new employer made him promise solemnly to watch over master Draco."

Draco was a bit taken aback by this revelation. He gaped at the little house elf for a long moment in speechless shock. Hermione, however, had become much more familiar with Dumbledore's strange, almost prophetic behaviour over the years. After what Harry had recounted to her about his behaviour that night on the Astronomy tower, she wasn't at all surprised that he would make sure that someone kept an eye on Draco after everything went to hell.

"Dumbledore told you to spy on me?" Draco asked a bit suspiciously, showing quite clearly that he did not have the same faith in the headmaster that Hermione did. She shook her head but it was Dobby who answered,

"Not spy! No! Just watch. Keep guard so no one is hurting you!"

Draco visibly swallowed but then brushed this new information to the side in favour of other more urgent tasks.

"Okay, well that's good then. So… is there any chance you can help us Dobby?"

The little elf nodded enthusiastically, his pointy ears bouncing up and down as he rocked up and onto the balls of his feet. The little blue tea cosy he was wearing flopped over his face slightly and he pushed it away.

"Dobby will do anything Master Draco asks him. He is very kind to elves, sir! Not like when he was nasty little boy. He is good now and he is friends with Harry Potter!"

"Well…let's not go crazy…" Draco muttered but Dobby didn't hear him in the midst of his excitement.

"And Dobby _must_ save Harry Potter! I go right now!"

"Wait, Dobby, can you take us with you?" Hermione asked, glancing over at her shoes and coat near the front door and making a move to grab them.

"No Miss Hermninny. Only elves go in. Wizards blocked. Nasty wards and curses around. They might split Miss Hermninny into little pieces!"

Hermione's spine tingled and she nodded in acceptance. Draco hummed in agreement as he considered the problem.

"But you can get people out?"

"Dobby can try, Sir!"

Hermione thought it was strange the way that Dobby insisted on being a free elf and defying his family bond, and yet by his very nature he treated Draco like his master. It was no wonder elves like Winky who had no place to go were all so confused and depressed. She might have to revise some of her strategies for S.P.E.W.

"Okay, listen to me very carefully Dobby, and do exactly as I tell you. Alright?"

Dobby's ears pricked back and he met Draco's gaze very seriously, his body going rigid and obedient in an instant. Hermione glanced at the blond boy's face in concern, but realised that his eyes were soft, worried even, and she knew he was using their bond for a bloody good reason to try and keep the elf safe.

"Dobby promises to be a good elf and do as Master Draco says," he vowed in a high-pitched but grave tone.

"We think they might be in the cellar where Lucius keeps his Dragon's Tonic. Check there first. If you encounter Bellatrix or my father, you _must not_ reveal yourself. Don't be seen by anyone! I mean it, Dobby. Stay hidden. If you can't get Potter and Weasley out with you, then come straight back here to give me a full report. Okay?"

Dobby nodded vigorously.

"Dobby will do as you say, master Draco. Dobby will escape with Potter and his Weasley if he can."

" _And_?"

"And Dobby will not be seen by the mad woman or…or…mast…uh…" the little elf seemed to choke on his own words as if he could not bring himself to speak the name of his former master.

"Or Lucius," Draco helped, giving the elf an awkward little pat on the shoulder where a loosely fitted jumper was draped. It looked suspiciously like one of the old ones Hermione had knitted in their fourth year. Dobby nodded and then lifted his hands in the air ready to make himself disappear with a snap of his fingers.

"Good luck, Dobby. Be careful," Hermione called to him, giving him a watery smile. Dobby grinned at her once, his crooked teeth showing in full, before with another soft pop he was gone. Hermione let out a long, shaky breath. Her whole body tensed and she curled her hands into fists.

"What an unusual house elf," Andromeda commented, speaking for the first time since he appeared. She had a bemused expression on her face as she watched the space where he had just vanished on the coffee table. Hermione turned her gaze to Draco and her stomach dropped. He had an intense, worried frown marring his features which mirrored her own feelings. After a moment, he caught her looking his way and tried to brush it off. She felt his arm encircle her waist to support her as her knees became a bit shaky.

"It'll be alright," he murmured. Whether he was speaking to reassure her or himself she wasn't sure. But either way she leaned into him and rested her head on his chest. She could hear his heart pounding where her ear was pressed against his body.

"Dobby's tougher than he looks," she reminded him with a slight hiccough, her fingers knotting in his shirt as she held onto him. He nodded and brushed a thumb over her cheek which was a bit damp from tears she hadn't even realised had fallen at some point in the last ten minutes or so. He stared down into her eyes and grimaced in what was an attempt at a faint smile. When he spoke it was almost inaudible, murmured so gently that she felt just the slightest puff of air against her cheek.

"Right now, he's their only hope."

….

….

….

Harry Potter's breath came in loud pants, in and out. He furiously strode around the walls, his hands sliding across the stone there, searching for some kind of break or crack that he could exploit. But without his wand it was useless. Ron was busy listening out at the door, relaying the conversation between wormtail and another Death Eater outside. It seemed like they were all going mad preparing for Voldemort's arrival. They wanted everything to be perfect when they handed the great Chosen One over to their feared leader. Harry felt sick. He remembered the eager, almost deranged gleam in Lucius Malfoy's eyes when he pressed his wand to his Dark Mark, sending the message with barely suppressed glee.

And now Voldemort was on his way. And the closer he got the more Harry's scar burned angrily. He would be here soon. His head felt like it was going to split open. And with every passing second, hope slowly slipped away as the hard reality of their situation sunk in. Bellatrix had taken the sword of Gryffindor from them, killing about three snatchers completely out of the blue. She had flown into a rage so immense that the walls had been shaking. They had also taken possession of their wands. But a few things had escaped their notice. Inside his coat, concealed inside his pockets, were his golden snitch, his mirror from Sirius and of course Hermione's galleon.

He was sure he had seen a glimpse of a blue eye in the mirror, which he could have sworn was Albus Dumbledore. But maybe that was just his brain losing its grip on sanity.

As for the coin, it was still slightly warm from Hermione's last message asking what had happened. Harry felt a knot of regret and self-loathing tighten in his gut. He was glad that she wasn't here; he would never want her life to be in this kind of danger. But he missed her. Ever since they had left her behind things hadn't been the same. It just wasn't… _right_ without her.

"Bellatrix wants to question us about the sword before _he_ gets here…"

Ron's voice whispered loudly over the dark space. His ear was held as close to the door as the wards would allow. Harry wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans and groaned in frustration. There didn't seem to be any way out this cellar. And there wasn't much point trying to make a weapon of any kind when they were fighting against wands. But despite being fairly hopeless, it was better than nothing. And he couldn't just sit around waiting to be killed.

Blindly inspecting a crate close to him, Harry felt around and tugged out a bottle of what looked like wine. He contemplated the edge of the box in the dark, raising the bottle to bring it down and smash it to form a sharp edge.

 _Crack._

Before he could do it, a sudden popping sound filled the room, a noise he had heard many times before. Spinning around, bottle still in hand, he blinked in the dark to see what or who had appeared.

It was a short, wiry little figure wearing lumpy wool jumpers and a bulging hat. With a soft click of its fingers, a light appeared and hovered up high near the ceiling. The sudden brightness was too much, and Harry shielded his eyes with his hand while they adjusted to the sudden change. After a while the figure became clearer in the light and Harry's mouth dropped open in surprise.

"Dobby?"

The little elf beamed at him, his round eyes wide and brimming with excitement. His voice rang out, squeaky and loud in the cavernous room. And what he said was something that completely floored both boys, making their bodies freeze in total shock.

"Master Draco is sending Dobby to save Harry Potter!"

….

….

….

 **Go Dobby! Elf power. Hopefully you don't mind my sneaky changes to canon. Please review!**


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Chapter Fifteen**

 **I hope you don't mind me being a bit sly with the way I have manipulated time to make things run more smoothly. I was pleased to see everyone so happy with Dobby's inclusion. Poor Dobby. As always, JKR is the true master of the house elves.**

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….

….

Hermione stared out the window with a growing sense of trepidation. The white sands stretching out into the distance seemed almost grey in the sickly early morning light of a cold dawn.

Shell cottage was a haven, isolated from the cruelty of war. It reminded her a bit of the little house in the valley that they had made their own over the last couple of weeks. Everything was cosy and personal, a sanctuary that Bill and Fleur had filled with an almost indefinable air of love. It had felt almost wrong somehow to invade their peace. To bring their conflict and pain here to tarnish such serenity.

Hermione watched in concern as her messy-haired friend wandered aimlessly around the rolling dunes of the beach. Her forehead was propped against the glass of a window in one of the spare bedrooms. Her breath fogged up the glass in restless sighs but the sound of Draco snoring gently on the bed behind her kept her mostly grounded. But still her eyes were fixed on Harry, meandering around the sandy planes below her. There was too much weight on his shoulders. And as furious as she has been with him lately, her heart ached for him too. From what she had learned last night, it seemed as though he had a difficult choice to make, although no one else in the house truly realised it. Not even Ron, she thought, who remained oblivious to anything except his own feeling of guilt.

 _Horcruxes or Hallows…?_

Hermione shuddered, tugging the thin woollen blanket tighter around her shoulders. She didn't think she would ever forget the look on Harry's face when she had first raced into the kitchen at Shell cottage in the middle of the night. Andromeda had taken them both there after they received word from Dobby that his operation had been successful. The gutsy little house elf was now enjoying a well-deserved and entirely decadent feast of all his favourite things back at their home in the valley. She had practically thrown herself at Draco when he suggested that Dobby might like to stay with them and do some housework for a reasonable salary. The elf's face had lit up like a burst of sunshine. To choose to work freely for money while also serving his true master was a dream come true for him. And that was when it had hit her. Hermione had realised briefly for the first time that she might actually be in love with Draco Malfoy.

Brushing aside the memory of this revelation she focused on her friend again, burdened by prophecy and the expectations of the wizarding world, as well as his own twisted sense of obligation. She regretted making things more difficult for him, but her emotions had overwhelmed her when she entered Shell cottage. His features had lit up, eyes going wide and so hopeful she had almost felt a twinge of remorse for her next actions. But even as he had gasped her name in relief and rushed forwards to embrace her, Hermione's anger had gotten the better of her. Before he could hug her she raised her hand back and slapped him hard and stinging right across the cheek.

"You selfish, stupid bastard!" she had choked out, seeing Harry's face crumple with shame even as his cheek flushed bright pink from being struck.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione..."

"Sorry? _Sorry?_ You left me behind! You wrote me a measly little note! Which I should mention half the bloody Order has read!"

She noticed Bill squirming a bit in the background but stubbornly ignored him.

"I was wrong. I made a mistake. Almost as soon as we'd left I regretted it," he had told her in a croaking whisper, his eyes prickling with tears, "And when we were trapped in that cellar and thought we might die at any moment, all I could think about was how I'd let you down…"

His voice had hitched then and he had been unable to go on. And it had broken through all Hermione's lingering bitterness. Harry flinched when she moved suddenly, but she no longer wanted to slap him silly. It was like a flip had switched, knowing that he could have died tonight. She threw her arms around him and squeezed him tightly, feeling him return her embrace gratefully where they stayed for at least a minute without separating even an inch. She caught Draco's jaw twitching and saw him glaring at her friend and she had rolled her eyes, finally releasing him from her stranglehold.

"What the bloody hell happened?" she demanded as soon as she caught her breath again. It was then that she had noticed Ron moping in the background. He was shooting hostile looks in Draco's direction but otherwise just looked completely defeated.

"It was my fault," he had admitted in a despairing voice, his face ashen white, "I said _his_ name. I nearly got us killed because I was such a fucking idiot. I'm sorry, mate…"

He had been unable to continue then, dropping his head into his hands and sobbing. Bill had stepped in to comfort his younger sibling, drawing him into the next room to give him what Hermione assumed was one of those wise big brother chats.

Hermione pursed her lips and pushed away from the window of the spare bedroom she and Draco had retired to after everything had settled down. Slipping her shoes on she made her way silently down the back stairs and out the door, plodding over the sand towards the spot where Harry had been meandering moments before. She clung to the blanket that was wrapped around her small body and cleared her throat softly when she reached her friend.

Harry lifted his head and gave her a small smile, though it looked more like a pained grimace. There were dark rings under his eyes and she noticed he kept rubbing unconsciously at his scar.

"I've been a terrible friend, haven't I?"

Hermione chuckled and walked over to stand next to him. They both turned to stare out at the horizon as the sun peeked up, orange and warm over the endless sea.

"You wanted to be loyal to Ron and he needed you. I get it. But that doesn't mean it didn't sting," she told him in a low voice. She felt him cringe a bit next to her.

"You've always had my back, you know," he said mildly, and she could see his hand curling into a gentle fist at his side, "You've always fought for me and protected me, even against myself sometimes."

"That's what sisters do," she told him, bumping her shoulder against his affectionately, referring to an old joke between them from years before. When someone had once asked them if they were a "couple" they had both turned to each other with matching looks of disgust, before laughing at themselves. They had mutually agreed at that point that their relationship would always be more comfortable as a sort of brother-sister bond. It suited them well. Harry had grown up isolated in such an unpleasant environment and Hermione had always been alone, whether because she was an only child or because she struggled to make friends easily.

"You must despise me," he murmured, causing Hermione to turn to him again and reach down to take his hand in hers.

"I'm not stupid, Harry. I get it. It must have been really difficult for you to accept that I might be with Draco… there's so much history between you both and he really was an absolutely vile little prat when we were younger."

Harry snorted, giving her a little smirk, but she continued before he could interrupt, "But you needed to trust me, Harry. Draco doesn't mean us any harm. And I think that everyone has the right to earn forgiveness. Everyone deserves a second chance."

Harry nodded quickly, giving her hand a little squeeze.

"I know. I get it now. It was Malfoy who sent Dobby to save us from the manor, wasn't it?"

"How did you know?"

"Dobby told us," he said with a rueful little grin, "he burst in and announced that Master Draco was going to save us. Ron nearly had a heart attack."

Hermione laughed softly and shook her head.

"Draco's endured…truly horrific things. He's not the same person he once was," she told him gently, watching warily for any sign of his old hatred, but her friend just appeared tired.

"I know. You wouldn't be friends with him otherwise."

Hermione bit her lip worriedly and peered up at him from beneath her eyelashes.

"Harry…um…the thing is… we're not _just_ friends. I swear I didn't lie to you that morning. We weren't really involved or anything then. But since you left, it's just been the two of us…and well…we kind of…got together…"

Harry laughed at her, tugging her closer and wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"You're rambling, Hermione," he told her with a fond smile, "And it's okay. I already know. I could hardly miss it. You guys kept staring at each other like a pair of lovesick fools earlier. It was gross, actually."

Hermione rolled her eyes and dropped her head onto his shoulder.

"And you…don't mind?" she asked nervously, knowing that even if he did have a problem with it, she was in too deep now. She was with Draco whether he liked it or not, but she would prefer to have his support than to keep up with this conflict.

"I can't promise I'll ever be best mates with him or anything, but it's your choice, Hermione. I _need_ you in my life. I realised that the moment we left. And if that means Malfoy comes as part of the package then I will accept it, accept _him._ "

Hermione snuggled deeper against him, a smile spreading across her lips.

"I need you in my life too, you big dope," she told him and felt his chest shake with a gentle laugh.

"Although I wouldn't count on Ron jumping on board anytime soon," he commented more seriously, "He's…well, he's been unusually morbid lately. It was like being stuck with that horcrux around his neck all over again."

Hermione hummed sadly, wishing that there were a way she could turn back the clock on her relationship with Ron to a time when their friendship was young, carefree and uncomplicated.

"I'm sorry he's hurting," she confessed in a soft voice, even though she refused to feel guilty about what she had with Draco. She'd never felt that way about Ron. It was better they find that out now before it got even more complicated or messy and they figured it out the hard way. That didn't mean she felt any better about breaking his heart, though.

The two friends were silent for a long time, snuggled close together as they watched the sky turn pink and the morning light wash across the beach like vibrant brush strokes. Eventually Harry cleared his throat again and shuffled from one foot to the other.

"Hermione… do you think that Malfoy would be willing to talk to me about his aunt?"

"Bellatrix?" she asked with a frown, "Why?"

He let out a breath that sounded exhausted to her ears.

"She seemed…obsessed with the sword of Gryffindor. She kept screaming about us breaking into her vault at Gringotts, and was genuinely afraid we had been there. I just wanted to see if he knew anything about it."

Hermione contemplated his train of thought for a while, her brows furrowed. It didn't take her long to work out what he meant.

"You think she might have a horcrux in there?"

Harry nodded slowly.

"Maybe. Lucius had the diary, after all."

"Makes sense," she said thoughtfully, cocking her head to the side, "He doesn't like talking about her, but I'm sure he'd share what he knows if it's relevant."

"Okay, sounds fair."

"Does this mean you've decided to go after the horcruxes…?" she asked warily, fearing that his recent preoccupation with the deathly hallows might still be blinding him to what was really important.

"It's what Dumbledore wanted," he said finally after a long pause. Hermione stayed silent. She didn't want to gloat or say 'I told you so', but she quietly approved of his choice. Instead she just gave his hand another comforting squeeze and continued to watch the day dawn bright and beautiful across the shores of the beach.

….

….

….

Draco watched the boy sitting across from him with wary eyes. The bedroom was small and they were sitting all rather close together, making him feel somewhat uncomfortable. Hermione was pressed close to his side, though, which gave him strength, making them seem like a united front before the bespectacled wizard sitting opposite them on a rickety old chair. Potter had the eyes of someone who had seen too much. Draco recognised that look all too well because he saw it in himself every day. But otherwise the boy didn't seem nervous really about being here, although he did swallow visibly as his gaze darted between his curly haired friend and the Slytherin whose hand she was holding onto.

For his part, Draco wasn't sure how to feel about this sudden reunion with his old school nemesis. He'd always hated stupid Potter and his self-righteous, self-sacrificing drivel. But he knew that Hermione loved him. Despite everything that had happened and her anger towards the boy, he was her family. So really he should swallow his pride and try to keep his calm if he wanted to make her happy. Easier said than done.

"So what's the big mystery, Potter? Why all the secrecy?" he drawled, leaning back a bit on the bed and giving a cocky sneer. He knew that something important was happening; the room was practically vibrating with the magic of Hermione's wards.

"Firstly, I thought I should probably thank you for your help saving us last night…"

He shrugged casually with one shoulder.

"It was all Dobby, not me."

"Yeh, but Hermione said it was your idea to send him in for us. I…er… I appreciate it."

Draco remained silent, giving a terse nod in acknowledgement but choosing not to say anything. He didn't exactly want to be swamped with gratitude from Harry bloody Potter. This was the same tosser who'd almost killed him in that girls' bathroom only a year ago. The scruffy-haired boy squirmed awkwardly for a while before clearing his throat to speak again.

"Anyway… I'm here because I wanted to talk to you as well. I was hoping that you would be able to answer some questions I have about your family."

Draco immediately tensed up in response to his request. He glowered at the other boy, jerking forwards to sit upright on the bed.

"What? Why would my family be any of your bloody business?" he spat. He felt Hermione's hand rest down on his arm gently, trying to keep him calm but his muscles were taut and on edge.

"Draco-" she murmured softly, as Potter grimaced in frustration.

"Look I know you don't want to talk about them. But it could be important. I'm trying to defeat You-Know-Who and I don't have time for you to be a selfish prat," the boy argued. Draco scoffed.

"You're just as bad as the rest of the bloody Order," he retorted snidely, "You think you can interrogate me because I'm just some no good Death Eater."

"Technically you _are…_ "

"Yeh well I never wanted anything to do with them, alright? I didn't want this."

"But you still might know things that can help. Lucius is _your_ father so-"

Draco stood quickly and whipped out his wand, pointing it at Potter's stupid face. He had just escaped another prison and he wasn't about to let this wanker treat him like he was the scum of the earth again. Behind him he heard Hermione groan but he couldn't focus on her when the mere mention of Lucius had made him see red.

"Don't you dare talk about my father. You don't know shit about me or my family, Potter. So stay the hell out of it."

Draco realised that he was shaking as he pointed his wand at Potter. Hermione's hand had tightened its grip on his arm to the point that he could feel her nails digging into his skin. Just as he was starting to regret losing his temper, he felt a rush of air and his wand whipped out from his hand. Potter deftly caught it in mid-air.

Draco's mouth dropped open. He hadn't even seen Potter slip his hand down to his own wand and cast a lightning quick, wordless disarming spell. There was clearly a reason he always did so well in Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"Give me back my wand," he growled. Potter raised his hands in the air, displaying both wands freely. His expression was surprisingly calm.

"Fine. But can you please just promise to listen? I don't want to fight with you. I'm just trying to figure something out, and Hermione gave me the impression that you would be willing to help."

At the mention of Hermione's name, Draco felt the tension leave his body as he let out a long, aggravated breath. Running one hand through his hair he collapsed backwards to sit on the bed again. He was doing this for her, he reminded himself. And for his mother. And for his own self-respect. He wanted Voldemort and his Death Eaters defeated just as badly as Potter, maybe even more so. At some point he would have to learn to hear his father's name and speak about him without going completely mental. Eyes fixed on the floor, he grit his teeth together and braced himself for what was coming.

"What do you want to know?"

He heard Hermione beside him breathe a sigh of relief and settle back down next to him. Harry also returned to his seat more slowly and leaned forwards to rest his elbows on his knees.

"I actually wanted to ask you something about what happened in our second year."

That actually took him by surprise. Draco lifted his gaze up from the floor and cocked one haughty eyebrow at the boy-who-lived.

"You mean about the chamber of secrets?"

Potter nodded, his eyes flicking nervously towards the girl sitting beside Draco, her thigh pressing against his.

"Yeh… you seemed to know a bit about it at the time…"

Judging by the look of unease on Potter's face and the way he kept glancing at his friend, he knew what incident the boy was referring to. He must be thinking of when they had first seen that writing on the wall and he had declared _you'll be next mudbloods._ Draco cringed at the memory.

"Lucius told me the story of the chamber of secrets when I was very little, only about seven or eight. I can only assume he was trying to convince me that Salazar Slytherin was some kind of noble hero ridding the world of muggleborns," he sighed dully and pushed a few strands of hair off his face, "He would always remind me of that story and use it as some kind of twisted justification for hating muggleborns. Like it was the duty of a proud Slytherin following in their founder's footsteps. Sick son of a bitch."

When he looked up again he saw that Potter was staring at him with an intensely troubled expression. He felt Hermione place her hand on his knee and it helped to soothe his frayed nerves.

"Holy shit, Malfoy… I didn't realise…"

He interrupted the other boy with a long groan.

"Gee Potter, don't start throwing me a pity party now."

Potter nodded but exchanged one more upset look with Hermione before he spoke again.

"I don't know if you realise this…but your father was actually partly responsible for what happened that year. He slipped this old diary-"

"-into Ginny Weasley's belongings," Draco finished for him with a grim nod, "I know."

"Did he tell you?"

"Not exactly. When the Dark Lord returned he demanded to know where it was. Lucius was forced to confess what happened to it and that it had opened the chamber again. And how _you_ destroyed it."

Potter blinked at him in surprise, his eyes widening.

"And how did er…You-Know-Who react?"

"Let's just say the damage was permanent. Even if Lucius wanted any more children I don't think he'd be capable. Thank Merlin."

The other boy looked a bit disgusted, but then his expression turned thoughtful as he considered this.

"Do you think that You-Know-Who would have given something to Bellatrix to look after? Something valuable maybe."

Draco shrugged, knowing that his aunt certainly had her fair share of secrets. Not to mention the fact that her relationship with Voldemort was weirdly twisted and intimate in an unnatural kind of way.

"Sure. If anything, he trusts her more than he's ever trusted my father. Bellatrix is predictable. She's devoted to the point of being deranged. And the Dark Lord loves a good sycophant. She's his right hand witch."

Potter absorbed this quietly for a moment.

"Can you tell me anything about her vault at Gringotts?"

Draco raised one eyebrow curiously. He tilted his head to share a look with Hermione but she just smiled encouragingly.

"Alright I'll play along… I don't know any specifics about it, but I imagine it would be similar to all the other old pureblood vaults. The Malfoys have an ancient vault deep in the bowels of the bank's underground tunnels. It's probably there."

"What defences are down there?"

He frowned and stared at the two Gryffindors in the room with suspicion.

"What exactly are you trying to accomplish, Potter?"

The boy grimaced.

"I can't tell you. But it's important."

Draco sighed, gritting his teeth and brushing aside the creeping feeling that Potter was going to do something monumentally stupid.

"We're talking about the bank's maximum security level. Nothing is spared. Wards, curses, imposter detectors, even bloody dragons. And the treasure itself is usually charmed to trick anyone who by some miracle might actually make it inside a vault."

He watched in slight trepidation as Potter's eyes flicked over to Hermione's. They shared a significant look that filled him with dread, as if they were plotting something. Given what he had just been speaking about he could only assume the worst.

"So can someone tell me what the bloody hell is going on?"

Potter squirmed a bit on his seat. He couldn't quite settle down and answer the question, so eventually Hermione reached over to give his hand a soft squeeze.

"Why don't I go and get us all some tea?"

Draco glared at her, warning her not to leave him alone with Potter, but she just gave him a bright, brilliant smile and jumped to her feet. As if sensing that he was not happy with the situation, she leaned down and left a firm, ardent kiss on his lips before bouncing from the room. As the door shut behind her, Draco glanced up and watched Potter's dark blush with amusement. His eyes had been hurriedly averted when he saw his friend kissing his former enemy. It made a cocky smirk rise on his lips. But then as an awkward silence settled over the room, Draco's mood sobered. He considered the lightning scarred boy sitting before him and, unexpectedly, an anger rose up inside him. It had been simmering there for a while and now they were alone it was coming back to the surface.

"Listen, Potter…" the other boy's green eyes darted up to stare at him, registering his serious tone, "When you and that freckled git buggered off in the middle of the night and left Hermione behind, it broke her heart. She was devastated. Frankly you deserved more than a slap last night when she saw you! I swear if you hurt her like that again I'll hex you myself."

At first, Potter looked slightly abashed as his cheeks turned a shade of sickly white and then slowly crimson. But after a few seconds a muscle seemed to twitch in his jaw and he pursed his lips.

"Don't you think that's a bit hypocritical, Malfoy? After all, no one else has hurt Hermione more than _you._ "

Draco scoffed and glowered at the boy in front of him.

"It's not the same. I hurt her years ago, back when I hated her and she hated me. We were mutual enemies. _You_ are her friend. That's means so much more than any of those stupid slurs I said when I was just a dumb, arrogant kid. It destroyed her because it came from someone who was supposed to love her."

The other boy's face turned sullen, but his shoulders slumped a bit in resignation. He gave one last glare at Draco.

"And how do I know _you_ won't hurt her?"

Draco shrugged.

"You don't. But you can believe me when I say that I would rather die."

Potter seemed a bit taken aback by the feeling behind his words. He didn't blink as the other boy stared piercingly at him. Eventually the boy-who lived sighed and gave a sort of sad smile as he rumpled his hair with one hand.

"Do you love her?"

Although Potter looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him as he asked his question, Draco just smirked, thinking of Hermione and the feeling of her wrapped around him, her beautiful brown eyes, her kindness.

"Absolutely," he replied with a small grin to himself.

Another rather uncomfortable pause descended on the room. It wasn't until he heard Hermione's footsteps thudding softly up the stairs back towards them that he cleared his throat and spoke again.

"Oh and Potter?"

"What?"

Draco gave a slightly menacing smile.

"Give me back my damn wand."

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 **I'm sure everyone will have figured out the significance of the wand… Anyway, some more plot plot plot next chapter. How do you want this story to end? We're in the home stretch!**


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Chapter Sixteen**

 **Our plot is charging up to some dramatic moments, as you may have guessed from your prior knowledge of Deathly Hallows. But since nobody wants to just read the same stuff all over again, I'll gloss over some scenes. Work is crazy right now so I'm really squeezing in time to write. Sigh. As always JKR is the owner and founder!**

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Draco really had no idea how he got here. It was total madness, he grumbled to himself as he clambered further down the rocky staircase. The stone was slippery from a drip coming from somewhere above in the dank cave network and the air was oppressive. In front of him, Potter was leading the way alongside some poor goblin they had cursed. An unforgiveable curse, at that! Potter was kind of scary when it came to defeating the Dark Lord; he was prepared to do just about anything.

 _Holy shit. We are breaking into Gringotts Bank,_ he reminded himself, his internal monologue sounding slightly panicked. He wanted to burst into laughter at the ludicrous position he found himself in. The only thing keeping him grounded right now was Hermione's hand gripping onto his as she scaled down the stairs just behind him. He took a deep breath and helped her climb a particularly steep edge, giving her hand a squeeze and exchanging a wry look with her. She returned his smiled with a beautiful grin and he knew exactly what she was thinking. As they had been getting ready that morning she had burrowed into his arms all of a sudden and whispered into his ear, "I'm so glad you're coming with us. I need you." It had made him feel a warm swelling of pride deep inside his chest, knowing that he was wanted. That she would be relying on him.

It hadn't exactly been an easy journey, though. Potter had seemed rather dubious about divulging to him the knowledge of their quest, although he had ultimately trusted Hermione's judgment, desperate to earn her forgiveness for his recent abandonment. Weasley, however, had been another matter. The ginger haired boy had, at first, refused to have anything to do with him and had almost been left behind as a result. Potter had finally gotten frustrated with his friend's pouting and had told him point blank that they would be leaving at dawn with or without him. And sure enough, he had indeed appeared, scowling and tired as the group snuck out into the grey light of early morning. But since then he had barely spoken a single word to any of them, even scar head. Honestly, the two Gryffindor boys were like an old married couple sometimes, the way they squabbled and hurt each other's feelings.

Draco didn't care, though. He was with Hermione and that was all that mattered. It was so clear to him that she needed to be here with Potter; she wanted to remain by her friend's side and Potter needed her just as much as she needed to feel like she was doing something worthwhile, fighting for what she believed in. Even if Draco hadn't been so keen himself to wipe Voldemort from the face of the earth he would have come along just to be with her. But as it was, he couldn't wait to see that snake-faced bastard get what he deserved. It had stunned him to find out that the evil son of a bitch had split his soul into seven pieces, though. He had stared at Potter in horror as he revealed the purpose of their mission, what Dumbledore had entrusted them with. It defied belief. To split the soul once was terrifying enough, but seven times! It was no wonder the vile wizard had completely lost his grip on reality. Draco had seen him do things that no sane human could even contemplate. He was unstable and lacking all sense of morality or reason. In short, he was a mere fragment of a human being. It all made sense.

Draco huffed out a sharp breath of relief as they made it finally to the bottom level of the old vaults. Apart from a few dark wards and charms, they had yet to encounter any other security. It seemed the illusion of their escort was working, as most bank employees would assume they were being guided down here legitimately by one of their own. And the goblins had no idea that Draco was technically supposed to be missing, presumed captured or dead. It had been all too easy to stride up to one of the many counters in the atrium and demand to be given access to the Malfoy vault. The house elves might not recognise him anymore, but his wand still identified him in Gringotts's records as being permitted to enter the most ancient pureblood crypts. Someone might alert his father and reveal the truth, of course, but they were hoping to be long gone by that time.

"What's that noise?" he heard Hermione whisper in his ear as they rounded a corner that led towards a large chamber he remembered only to well from previous visits. Potter also looked apprehensively at him, cocking his head to one side questioningly. Draco smiled grimly, pointing at a dark alcove hidden away to one side of the chamber.

"That would be…the dragon," he told them in a hushed, dry voice, feeling Hermione shiver in response to the revelation.

"I thought you were joking about that," Potter told him honestly, his own face a picture of surprise as he recalled Draco's earlier list of all the obstacles they were likely to encounter. He shrugged.

"Nope. It's a Chinese fireball, from memory. An old one. But it should be chained up at the moment. There haven't been any alarms or wards set off yet. After we break into Bellatrix's vault however…"

He let the sentence hang and they all nodded in acknowledgement of the possible risk coming their way. Their whole ruse would of course be ruined the moment they entered a different vault to the one they had permission to access. The goblins weren't stupid or laid back when it came to security. Hermione grasped his hand tighter.

"Let's go then," she murmured and Potter nodded, gripping his wand tighter in his visibly sweaty palm. Draco's own wand felt strangely cold, and he glared at the back of Potter's head for the hundredth time that morning. He was certain the other wizard had upset his ownership somehow the other day when he'd disarmed him. It just didn't feel as…welcoming…as it usually did.

The odd group made their way slowly out of the tunnel towards the centre of the high-ceilinged chamber. The goblin stared around them in a spelled daze, while Draco examined the eight vault doors encircling them. Weasley stood a few steps away, listening carefully to the sound of the dragon's deep rumbling breaths. Draco remembered something vaguely about one of the older ginger siblings working with dragons. Maybe the idiot would actually prove useful after moping and following them around like a puppy that had been kicked all morning.

"That's the Malfoy vault there," he pointed out a vault with a big black door, adorned with gold gilding in overly embellished patterns and the Malfoy crest in pride of place. The emblem was ornate, scattered with emeralds and diamonds that were probably more ancient than half the gold inside.

"Very subtle," Potter joked, shooting him an amused grin. Draco just rolled his eyes and spun around, his eyes tracing over the other doorways. The Lestrange crest was immediately familiar to him. He had seen it enough times before, since Rodolphus was one of those slimy people who liked boasting and flashing his old treasures around for anyone to see.

"There," he said confidently, moving towards the door with the most ridiculously large bronze handle he'd ever seen, "I think Bellatrix would be most likely to use the Lestrange vault. There was a bit of conflict between her and the Black family years ago, because of some money that went missing that I'm pretty sure she gave to the Dark Lord. And anyway, in pureblood families the husband takes control over any assets, not that Rodolphus ever had any real power over his wife."

Hermione watched him warily, giving him a slightly nervous smile. She knew he didn't like talking about Bellatrix. He still had nightmares about the things she'd done to him and how she'd haunted him when he was still living at the manor. But as the group made their way carefully towards the vault, Potter was also watching him, a curious gleam in his eyes.

"So… how rich are you, exactly?" the boy eventually asked when he worked up the courage. Hermione spluttered a bit in surprise at her friend's slightly invasive question. But Draco snorted and shrugged his shoulders, not at all surprised by his prying.

"Well if Lucius finds out what really happened to me… I suspect I'll be disowned. So that might diminish my wealth somewhat…"

"Only somewhat?"

Draco shook his head but patiently answered the question. It wasn't exactly the first time that he'd been asked about his money. And Hermione probably deserved to know about it if their relationship was going anywhere.

"Well he can't touch the money that's been left to me from my mother's family. When she died I was given exclusive access to it, as much as I'm sure Lucius will try to claim it."

Harry nodded as he listened, reaching the door of the vault and observing it carefully.

"So you have one of these vaults?" Hermione asked him in a quiet voice. He turned to look at her with interest. He was used to girls being fascinated by his wealth and drawn to him as a result. But if anything, she looked strangely queasy about the thought of his money. It was oddly refreshing. He fully expected Hermione to be the kind of witch that would be driven to make a fulfilling career for herself no matter how rich he was. She was simply not made for an idle life. It made him love her more.

"Yes," he told her quietly, trying to speak as privately as he could in front of Potter and Weasley, "That side of the Black family is one of the oldest in existence. And since Andromeda was disinherited and Bellatrix has no heirs, that leaves just me. But I've been thinking…"

Draco paused, trailing off and shuffling from one foot to the other, refusing to meet her eye. Hermione stroked her thumb over the back of his hand, leaning closer to him. He inhaled softly from the scent that seemed to radiate from her skin and calm him like nothing else could.

"What?" she prompted and he felt a muscle in his jaw twitch self-consciously.

"I was thinking that my aunt…Andromeda, I mean… I think that she deserves at least a share of it. If this all works out and we survive, I want to return what is rightfully hers."

Hermione positively beamed at him. Her smile was so beautiful he actually felt the breath freeze in his lungs for a moment as he stared unabashedly at her. She surreptitiously darted her eyes from side to side, watching to make sure that Potter and Weasley were absorbed with their inspection of the vault door. Then she leaned in and placed a swift, affectionate kiss on his lips. Draco grabbed her shoulders and held her there for a moment, relishing the feel of her sweet mouth melting against him. He let her pull away with his own smirk, tucking a curl behind her ear.

"You would give up your money for her?" she asked in a husky whisper, blinking adorably up at him. He rolled his eyes playfully at her display of Gryffindor sentimentality.

"If it meant having a real family, then yes."

Hermione considered his statement with interest.

"You know Andromeda would treat you like family regardless of the money."

His smirk widened as he nodded.

"That's exactly why I want to give it to her."

Before Hermione could comment, Potter beckoned them closer as he twisted his wand and gave a shaky command to their goblin escort. Draco inched further towards the door, watching the pointy-eared creature reach out numbly and run his fingers over the door. The metal seemed to ripple and bend underneath his touch, and then the door was opening with an almighty groan.

"That will probably have triggered an alarm," Draco explained as the group peered inside the opening, "We don't have long."

Potter gestured for Draco to come inside with him. The brunette boy turned to his two friends and pointed at the ground beneath them.

"Ron, Hermione… stay here and keep watch. Let us know straight away if anyone's coming."

Draco reluctantly disentangled his hand from where it was linked tightly with Hermione's, following Potter inside the vault with careful steps. There was no doubt in his mind that Bellatrix would have a dozen dangerous and deadly curses placed on her precious treasures to protect them from intruders. He only hoped Potter had some kind of plan for finding whatever damn piece of soul might be concealed inside the vault.

Then they'd be one step closer to eliminating that evil, murdering son of a bitch once and for all.

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The rhythmic gusts of wind sounded eerie as they whipped across the rocky mountains and weaved around in between craggy crevices. It was a low, haunting moan that battered the side of the tent. Hermione could feel it right down to her toes, her skin prickling with cold and fear. The adrenalin of the day was starting to fade as the night darkened.

Inside the tent, the air was tense. Once they had clambered ashore and caught their breath, Harry had been gripped by terrifying pain in his skull. He had held onto his head, scar burning, and had fallen to the ground, convulsing. Ever since then he had remained only partly conscious. Hours had passed. He had occasionally murmured things about Voldemort, and horcruxes, updating them in a dazed drawl about what he was witnessing inside the evil wizard's head. But after a while it had been clear that Harry wasn't capable of moving or apparating anywhere, so she'd erected the tent right there near the lake. Her messy-haired friend was slumped on the couch whimpering as he saw more and more of Voldemort's thoughts. Ron was outside the tent keeping watch, leaving Hermione and Draco by themselves, sitting idly on the edge of a bed.

"I can't believe we rode a bloody dragon," Draco muttered, tugging a blanket towards them that was draped over the side of the bed. He pulled it until it was covering their legs. Hermione snuggled closer to him, her eyes darting over the room to make sure her two friends were still distracted. Or in Harry's case, near comatose.

"It's definitely the craziest thing we've ever done!" she agreed, and the two of them chuckled wryly together, remembering how insane it had been to make that first mad leap onto the animal's back. Hermione and her friends had done a lot of strange, dangerous things in their time at Hogwarts, but escaping Gringotts on the back of a dragon had to be the worst.

"So… what exactly is wrong with Potter?" Draco asked after a slight pause once they were both comfortable sitting under the quilt. Hermione frowned, one foot tapping uncertainly.

"He has this weird connection to You-Know-Who. Their minds are linked somehow. It's quite painful for him."

"Is that how he was lured to the ministry in fifth year?"

"Yes, You-Know-Who implanted fake images in his head," she explained, watching as Draco's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"So…he can just see inside his head?"

"Sometimes. He can't exactly control it."

The blond boy shook his head in bemusement. Hermione wasn't sure what else she could say about the situation. It had always bothered her, the connection between Harry and Voldemort. She wondered whether she had stopped herself thinking bout it for so many years because it just gave her a slight pain in her chest. A sense of foreboding niggled at her now, as though her friend was spiralling towards something dark and mortally dangerous. And she felt like there was nothing she could do to prevent it. Draco must have felt the tension in her body. Releasing a breath, he moved to wrap an arm around Hermione's shoulders.

"So what now?"

Hermione shrugged, nestling closer into the crook of his neck.

"Now we wait for Harry to wake up. Then we find the next one."

"Sounds fun."

She chuckled at his dry tone, seeing that he didn't look overly impressed with the thought of spending more time than necessary with her friends. But at least he was making an effort. He and Harry had barely spoken a nasty word to each other all day. It was a miracle.

"Draco…" she began in a quiet voice, turning her head to press her lips against the side of his neck.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think if things hadn't changed and we'd all stayed at Hogwarts for our seventh year that you would have ever…approached me?"

"You mean romantically?" he asked, and she could practically hear the smirk in his tone. She nodded into his collarbone, not daring to meet his eye. She heard him hum gently above her and one of his hands played idly with her curls.

"I might have. I wanted to, you know. In sixth year."

"Really?"

"Yeh, after that night in the hospital wing I thought about you constantly. I watched you a lot after that. I think I was trying to remind myself that someone had cared about me, even if just for one night."

"Not just one night," she corrected softly, "I watched you too in sixth year. I never admitted it but I felt somehow drawn to you… I worried about you."

Draco's hand froze for a second in her hair before resuming its movement.

"I desperately wanted to talk to you again that year. And kiss you again. If we'd stayed at school and Dumbledore hadn't…" Draco cleared his throat and his body physically seemed to cringe at the memory, "Then I like to think I would have worked up the guts to at least smile at you once or twice eventually. Maybe even strike up a conversation."

Hermione giggled into his shoulder.

"You mean instead of just stealing my locket?"

She looked up in time to see a slight blush infuse his cheeks. Draco let out a huffing breath and a sheepish smile graced his lips.

"Sorry about that," he said with a wince of embarrassment, "I was an idiot. You were just suddenly there…and I was leaving. I didn't know if I would see you again."

Hermione felt a twinge of affection. She leaned up and pressed her lips to his. Draco seemed surprised at the sudden kiss, but it didn't take long before he twined his fingers through her curls and deepened it. She shivered fitfully when she felt him nibbling on her bottom lip and parted them for him, their tongues meeting in a brief caress. A low groan escaped Draco's throat.

"I wish we weren't stuck here with your damn friends…" he muttered in a strained voice against her lips. Hermione smiled and blinked up at him. She reached up to run her fingers over the soft strands of blond hair on his forehead.

"You're insatiable," she teased gently, nipping at his bottom lip in return and enjoying the sound of his moan.

"Can you blame me? I wish we were back in our little house… private, isolated…"

"You mean Andromeda's house-"

"Exactly. I could make you scream my name at the top of your lungs and no would hear us."

Hermione shuddered.

"You do always seem rather focused on trying to make me louder when we... do things."

Draco grinned and kissed her fiercely once more, his lips cold but soft against hers. Then he drew back to stare at her with a spark of heat in his eyes.

"There's no sweeter sound in the world than hearing the girl I'm madly in love with moaning my name so loudly I can still hear it ringing in my ears later."

Hermione blinked, the air rushing out of her lungs as she contemplated the boy beside her. He had said it so artlessly that she knew he meant every word. Draco himself appeared rather stunned at his admission. He had confessed his feelings before, of course, but never so casually or so naturally. She watched as he opened and closed his mouth a few times as if to explain himself or say something more substantial. Hermione felt her heart swell and her emotions crystallise into one very significant, albeit unfamiliar sensation. With a watery smile she pressed her forehead against his and took a deep breath.

"I think I've been falling in love with you ever since fifth year," she told him in a hushed tone, but she could see every word pierce him as he swallowed and took a deep, shaking breath.

"Really?" he stammered, looking so adorably hopeful it made her feel a hot pleasure deep in her stomach.

"I started loving you before I even really knew you," she admitted with a slight shrug, "That night in the hospital wing you became so… _real,_ so full of heart and humanity. It took me by surprise."

Before she could say any more, Draco was kissing her again. He tilted his head to the side to deepen the contact, attacking her lips passionately while she held on to his neck with desperate fingers, her heart thumping. She gave a little whimper, which he swallowed greedily.

A slightly pained groan interrupted them before they could get carried away, and the two lovers parted with heavy breaths, smiling at each other for a moment before turning to the source of the noise. Harry was pushing himself up stiffly onto his elbows. He was rubbing one hand roughly over his forehead where his scar stood out, red and angry. Hermione jumped to her feet, calling for Ron to come inside as she rushed over to her friend's side.

"Harry! Are you okay?" she asked in a hushed voice, aware that he often suffered extremely painful headaches after times like these. Ron had hurried over as well and they stood around their scruffy-haired friend while he recovered from his trance-like state, waiting on edge for him to speak. When he didn't reply, she exchanged a worried look with Ron.

"You alright, man?" Ron asked in a casual voice, trying to sound calm in case Harry launched into a temper like he sometimes did when he'd been too deeply wrapped inside Voldemort's thoughts and feelings. Harry coughed slightly, his eyes still screwed shut.

"Wat…water-"

Before either of his two best friends could react, Hermione saw a pale hand shoot out, offering a glass of crystal clear ice water. She turned and watched in surprise as Draco handed over the glass he'd summoned. He was trying to look blasé about it, but she could see that he was also disturbed by the after-effects of Harry's stupor. He wasn't as used to Harry's strange relationship with Voldemort as they were so it must have been a shock to witness. Her friend opened his eyes blearily and accepted the glass with a look of relief, not even batting an eyelid when he saw that it had been supplied by his former nemesis.

"Thanks," he croaked eventually after he had gulped down the entire glass at once. Draco shrugged and shuffled awkwardly from one foot to another as they all observed Harry warily. Hermione's lip was turning red and swollen from biting down too hard on it.

"What…what did you see, Harry?" Ron asked at last, clearly unable to wait any longer. The brunette boy exhaled with a violent tremble. Hermione quickly summoned the blanket they had been snuggling under a moment ago, draping it over his shoulders.

"We need to get into Hogwarts," Harry said in a rush, finally meeting their eye. His skin was pale and clammy but his expression was determined.

"Hogwarts?" Hermione squeaked, stunned by his statement. Harry nodded vigorously.

"The last horcrux is there."

"Are you sure?" Ron asked, his skin white beneath his freckles.

"I saw everything," he confirmed with a fierce look in his eye, "When he learned about what happened at Gringotts, he just _knew._ For the first time I could actually feel his fear. He knows that we've been hunting down and destroying pieces of his soul. And the arrogant son of a bitch if finally afraid."

"How did he find out we stole the one from Gringotts?" Hermione asked curiously. Ron snorted, giving his friend an amused look.

"Well I don't know how to break this to you, Mione, but I think someone might have noticed we broke out of there on the back of a dragon…"

The others chuckled as well, remembering the violent way they had burst up through the underground vaults and into the sky over Diagon Alley. Hermione's initial reaction was to feel embarrassed that she had asked such a silly question, but honestly she was just happy that Ron had joked with her. Maybe their friendship wasn't doomed after all.

"How do you know there's one at Hogwarts?" Draco asked after the moment had passed.

"I heard his thoughts and saw his reaction," Harry explained. "He started panicking about the other ones. I watched him travel to the cave by the sea and to the gaunt house. And then I heard him thinking about the remaining ones and needing to protect them. Dumbledore was right; the snake Nagini is one. And he seems confident that _the one at Hogwarts_ is safe. I reckon it must be something belonging to Rowena Ravenclaw!"

Hermione watched as the blond Slytherin boy spluttered slightly, his cheeks turning an odd green tinge.

"Wait… that bloody snake is one?"

Harry nodded, clenching the blanket around himself tighter. A look of disgust passed over Draco's face.

"I hate that fucking thing! Please let me be the one to kill it."

"Why?" Harry asked curiously. Draco's face darkened even further.

"Let's just say if you'd watched a giant filthy fucking snake eat a person whole you'd want to destroy it too."

The golden trio all pulled faces of horror, exchanging uncomfortable glances at Draco's increasingly grim tone.

"That's… awful," Harry commented at last. He stared more closely at Draco, as if seeing him for the first time, "I'm not surprised you wanted to get out."

The blond boy shrugged, trying to look overly casual.

"I may have been a little prat at times growing up, but I'm no sadist. I know you might find that hard to believe, Potter-"

Hermione held up her hands to stem any possible argument between the boys.

"So… how do we break into the castle? What's the plan?" she interrupted. Ron made a scoffing sound and rolled his eyes.

"Since when do any of our plans actually work?"

Harry chuckled hoarsely at his friends, still rubbing furiously at his scar as if it was itching him.

"I say we just apparate to Hogsmeade and scout it out. Maybe there's a way we can get in."

"The place will be surrounded by Death Eaters," she reminded him.

"We don't really have a choice."

"It sounds too dangerous-"

"We need to get in there before You-Know-Who! We have to find that horcrux."

Draco cleared his throat, interrupting the debate going on between the Gryffindor trio. All three pairs of eyes turned to him in surprise as he smirked.

"Just a thought… why don't we ask Dobby?"

Harry cocked his head to one side.

"Dobby? How can he help?"

"If he can get in and out of Malfoy manor, why not Hogwarts? He was technically employed there by Dumbledore, right?"

The three of them blinked in surprise and considered his suggestion. It made sense. After a moment, Harry grinned.

"Welcome to the team, Malfoy! Crazy ideas are our specialty. And for some strange reason they usually work… against all odds."

Ron glared a bit darkly at his friend's overly welcoming tone. But Hermione just chuckled.

"We have been outrageously lucky for seven years," she agreed. Harry jumped to his feet, giving his scar one last rub. The four of them took a deep, collective breath, their expressions ferocious.

"Alright then. Let's do this!" Harry growled, gritting his teeth into a snarl. "Let's go defeat that snake-faced son of a bitch!"

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 **Everyone ready for the battle of Hogwarts? Story winding up in the next couple of chapters. Now I've just got to decide how I want it to end… Please review!**


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Chapter Seventeen**

 **Sorry for the delay. Life is busy. Not so many reviews for the last couple of chapters, would be interested to see what people want to happen and whether I'm moving through the story too fast. Enjoy this new offering. As always, JKR is the real chosen one.**

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Hermione watched in amusement as the large crowd of Hogwarts students – mostly Gryffindors – stared at the blond boy in their midst with something akin to astonishment. When Dobby had apparated them here directly to the Room of Requirement, a great cheer had erupted from the students gathered there, welcoming their hero Harry Potter back home. Their beaming faces had left her feeling stunned. She knew things would be bad at Hogwarts this year with Death Eaters acting as teachers now, but Neville in particular looked like he'd been beaten to a pulp. There was a sense of weariness to them all that made her chest ache with sympathy. But at the same time an edge of stubbornness hung over them; a determination that they wouldn't be defeated. And it seemed as though Hogwarts had responded magnificently. The room was equipped with everything they needed, including hammocks and cushions everywhere, spell books and a cauldron bubbling with something that smelt divine in one corner.

But the elated mood had slowly faded as the occupants of the room became aware that the infamous Draco Malfoy was standing slightly behind the golden trio. To Hermione he looked quite nervous and sheepish, but she knew that to anyone else who didn't know him well, they would only see the haughty façade. There was a sort of awkward silence before somebody spoke up. Unsurprisingly it was Seamus Finnegan who pointed a finger towards the Slytherin with a look of disgust and confusion.

"What the bloody hell is Malfoy doing here?"

Hermione exchanged a glance with her friends, but it was ultimately Harry who gave a self-conscious shrug and faced the mob of students squarely.

"He's with us. He's helping."

"What, like he helped Dumbledore?"

Hermione's pulse quickened at the accusation. She recognised the beady, sharp eyes of Zacharias Smith and she glared at him.

"Look, a lot's happened the last few months. You're just going to have to accept it," Harry insisted firmly, and she felt a wave of affection for him. But the Hufflepuff boy just looked poisonous.

"What? Accept a Slytherin? Not likely. They're all rotten!"

Hermione was clenching her hands into fists. She hadn't wanted to hit somebody so badly in ages. Not since third year anyway. But his stupid pasty face, covered in zits and twisted into a snarl just made her palms itch. She was ready to yell something at the boy when a surprising voice beat her to it.

"Oh shut it, Zacharias you tosser!"

Their little group looked over at Ron in surprise. It was totally out of the blue for him to jump up in Malfoy's defence. Her shock was palpable, but he was staring at Smith fiercely, his face flushed and red with anger. She glanced over at Draco and saw he was looking just as baffled at the strange turn of events. Her lip twitched. As the tension in the room slowly faded, Ron shot her a look that was almost guilty and she could read him instantly. He had always been so obvious with his emotions; every little thing painted on his face. In his own clumsy way he was trying to make amends. Ever since the night they had been captured at Malfoy manor, where they had almost been killed and the efforts of Draco and Dobby had saved them, his attitude had undergone a shift. It was subtle at first, but Hermione noticed it. He was quieter, more thoughtful. She had a sneaking suspicion that he had realised that, given the unpredictable nature of war, he didn't want to risk losing her friendship. Even if he did have a crush on her, they had been friends first and that was more important than any other petty jealousies or resentment.

At that moment, all thoughts of outrage about Malfoy gave way to a shared amusement among the crowd as Ginny Weasley pushed through the masses, launching herself into Harry's arms.

"Ginny!" he cried out happily as her fiery hair whipped around them both and they clutched at each other tightly, neither willing to let go.

Hermione sidled closer to Draco and secretively took his hand, giving it a squeeze. He darted a curious glance at her but she just smiled softly.

"It's good to be back," she whispered and he nodded in understanding.

"Maybe we can slip off to the hospital wing at some point-" he muttered with a devilish smirk, "I have some unfinished business with you there."

Hermione chuckled, but quickly sobered when Harry once more addressed the crowd, seeking information about an artefact belonging to Rowena Ravenclaw. She let out a deep breath.

It had been surprisingly easy to break into the castle. Now they just had to find and destroy a horcrux.

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….

Draco was concealed in a dark alcove somewhere near Ravenclaw tower. He had snuck up here behind Potter and the Lovegood girl, disillusioned and buried in the shadows to offer extra protection if they needed it. He was supposed to create a commotion if anyone came his way, to warn Potter to hide himself while the boy searched for evidence of the missing horcrux. So far there had only been an eerie silence permeating the tower. As if the castle was holding its breath and waiting for what was coming. And Draco had no doubt that this was going to turn bad at some point soon. If the Dark Lord was aware of what the golden trio was doing, it was only a matter of time before they clashed here at Hogwarts. He tapped his foot impatiently on the stone floor. Although he knew he shouldn't want to ever hold Hermione back, he was secretly glad that she was still safely protected in the Room of Requirement. She and Ron were waiting for the other members of the Order of the Phoenix who had been summoned to prepare for the possibility of a conflict. They would coordinate things from there.

It had been Hermione who had suggested he accompany Potter and Lovegood. She had worried about the reaction of certain Order members if they came upon him here at Hogwarts. Given his controversial escape from headquarters, there might be some lingering bitterness between them. Draco personally wanted them to dare try and aggravate him now that he had his wand. He'd hex them in such nasty ways they would beg for forgiveness.

His dark musings were interrupted by the slight creaking of a door nearby. Draco held his breath but there was no further noise to accompany it. He was still wary, however, and he couldn't ignore the prickling feeling on the back of his neck that told him someone was nearby. Knowing that his instincts were usually good, Draco raised his wand to send a nearby suit of armour stumbling to the ground, but before he could cast the charm, a long fingered hand reached out suddenly from the darkness.

Draco felt his heart plummet, pounding against his ribs. The spidery hand tightened its grip and pushed him deeper into the alcove until he was completely separate from the hallway beyond. He went to hex his assailant in his panic, but froze when the moonlight cast its soft glow over the features of the person. He was still frozen when the disillusionment charm was abruptly cancelled and he stared up in shock at the dark obsidian eyes of his former professor.

Because right there in front of him loomed the ghostly figure of Severus Snape.

"Draco," the greasy haired man sneered down at him suspiciously, and he became aware that the circulation in his wrist was being cut off. His fingers were going numb but still the man held on, " _What the devil_ are you doing here?"

He blinked dumbly for a few seconds before swallowing the pained lump in his throat.

"Snape…I…I'm just-"

"You'd better have a damn good explanation boy."

He glared at his former mentor and tore his arm away.

"I'm here on the Dark Lord's orders. To check up on you," he told the lie smoothly, trying to hold a contemptuous expression on his face. He had no idea where Snape's loyalties would fall in this confrontation. He had always had his doubts about where Snape stood, even after the murder of Albus Dumbledore.

"Nice try, Draco. But you can't lie to me."

"I'm not lying-"

"You've been missing for _months_ now."

He licked his lips and felt his hands shaking, palms sweaty.

"I was captured. But I escaped," he stammered, knowing that it was useless. Snape had an uncanny ability to read truth and lies in somebody's eyes. He was an expert in legilimency; he seemed to be able to read minds without even needing to cast the spell. And now he was glaring angrily at the younger man, his lips thin and white with fury. Before he knew it a wand was pressed to his cheek, its point digging into his skin.

"Tell me the truth. You disappeared in the middle of a small skirmish. I heard you weren't even injured. You weren't under serious attack. You could have got away."

"So?"

"So I need you to be honest with me. There's no use pretending. I know for a fact you surrendered to the Order of the Phoenix. Just like I know you have _feelings_ for Hermione Granger. And you've been living somewhere with her alone for several weeks."

Draco's jaw actually dropped open in shocked horror. He had no idea how Snape had come by all this information. He felt a clenching of terror in his stomach. He instantly closed his eyes shut tightly, fearing that Snape had read his mind through eye contact.

"Don't bother, Draco. I don't _need_ to read your mind."

He squinted them open slightly, seeing Snape staring at him with a hint of wry amusement.

"But how…"

Snape shrugged, a gesture that looked strangely awkward on his skinny figure.

"Let's just say I'm friends with the portrait of a former headmaster who has his own means of gaining information."

Draco frowned at the explanation, but then remembered Hermione mentioning something about a big picture frame taking up too much room in her small beaded bag. He wondered if the two were connected.

"What are you going to do about it?" he snarled at the older man, facing him square on and looking coldly up at him. Snape let out a couple of quick breaths as he contemplated him.

"I'm going to help you."

The answer surprised him. His eyebrows shot up on his forehead as he tilted his head curiously to the side.

"Help me…" he repeated slowly, as if not quite understanding the words.

"Yes. We have more in common than you realise."

Draco just stared at him dubiously, remaining silent until Snape saw the need to continue and explain himself.

"I knew it as soon as I saw you take that locket from Miss Granger the night of the events on the Astronomy tower."

Draco cursed quietly, knowing that he had looked extremely odd doing that right in front of his professor that night. It must have come across as very strange indeed.

"Why didn't you say something?"

A slightly sad tinge of remorse entered the professor's black eyes.

"It was better left unspoken. But it was clear to me then that you…had some kind of connection to Granger…"

Draco nodded reluctantly. Seeing real sensitivity in his former teacher's eyes he didn't feel so concerned about admitting it now.

"I'm in love with her," he confessed in a low voice. It felt supremely awkward to be saying such a thing to the normally harsh, dour man in front of him. But honesty seemed the best option right now, "Severus, I never wanted this. I never wanted to be like _him._ Like Lucius."

"I know, Draco," Snape replied quietly. He reached out and placed an icy hand on the younger man's shoulder in what was probably the most affectionate gesture he'd ever received from the man.

"So you're _not_ going to turn me over to the Dark Lord?" he asked with a sense of trepidation. Snape's eyes narrowed and he stared fiercely out the window near them.

"No. Draco I wanted to tell you…"

He paused for such a long time that Draco thought he wouldn't say anymore. Then those black eyes turned to meet his again. They appeared more open than he had ever seen them.

"I'm not what you think I am. There is more happening than anyone realises. But you can help me."

Draco shuffled on his feet, his curiosity piqued.

"How?"

"Are you with Potter? Is he here?"

He hesitated for a long time, wondering what the right course of action was. But this wasn't exactly a new revelation for him. Draco had always suspected Snape of not serving the Dark Lord as loyally as he appeared. Despite some conflict between them in recent years, he had always trusted the Head of Slytherin. The man had always tried to protect him, even against himself sometimes. So he grit his teeth and made a decision.

"Yes. He's here," he confirmed finally with a brusque nod. Snape looked almost relieved at the news.

"Good. I need you to do something for me…"

"What is it?"

Snape's eyes darted around the dark space, a look of genuine fear on his features. He leaned in closer, flicking his wand to cast even more protective charms on the space than he had no doubt already done earlier.

"I am probably not going to survive what's coming…"

Draco's heart skipped unpleasantly at the callous way the man announced the likelihood of his own death. He blanched and stared at Snape in horror.

"What do you mean?"

Snape sighed and a muscle clenched in his jaw as one oily strand of hair fell across his face.

"The Dark Lord is under the incorrect assumption that the wand he is using belongs to _me._ "

Draco was confused. It didn't make any sense to him at all.

"Why?"

"It was Dumbledore's wand. He stole it, but it's not working properly for him. So he has concluded that because _I_ killed Dumbledore, it must therefore have passed its ownership onto me."

"Does wand lore really work like that?"

"In a sense. However I was not the one who actually defeated the headmaster…"

Snape let his words trail off, gazing significantly at the blond boy in front of him. Draco took a moment to absorb what he was saying and his breath caught.

" _Me?_ You mean _I_ own Dumbledore's wand?"

"As far as I know. The headmaster was a little vague on some of the details when we spoke about it. But the important thing is that the Dark Lord believes killing me will fix the problem."

Draco's mind was spinning with information, not the least of which was the fact that Snape appeared to have discussed everything with his supposed murder victim at some point in the past.

"So you are… and I might…"

"I need you to deliver a message for me in the event that I am killed," Snape cut in with a tense voice. Draco shifted from one foot to the other, standing straighter and peering up at the older man in some outrage.

"Why don't you run then? Leave him and come with me. I can explain things to Hermione…"

"No, Draco. This is the part I must play," the professor interrupted him more firmly, his voice urgent now, "I have accepted my role and so will you." Draco shook his head but fell silent, his throat convulsing a little as he tried to swallow but found that he couldn't. The older man continued, "Here is a vial of my memories. When it appears as though everything is reaching a final confrontation and the snake is gone, you _must_ give this to Potter. Promise me."

Draco numbly reached out and took the vial, but found that he couldn't speak as the obsidian eyes of his mentor stared down at him.

"Promise me, Draco!" he demanded fiercely, just as the sound of voices started growing from the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room. Clearly people had gotten past him without him being able to raise a warning, based on the commotion that was going on.

"I promise," he said quietly, slipping the vial of silvery threads into the pocket of his trousers and reaching up to grip Snape's shoulder worriedly, "But _you_ need to promise me you will try and stay safe. Tell him about your theory that I own the wand if you have to. I'll be alright. I can stay out of his way more easily. Just don't be a suicidal Gryffindor please."

Snape rolled his eyes slightly but gave a curt nod.

"I'll see what I can do."

It was at that moment, before they could say anything further to each other, that they heard the sound of Harry Potter firing a spell at one of the Death Eaters who was stationed here as a supposed teacher. One of Carrow twins if his memory served him correctly. The shattering of stone into rubble was what alerted them, both spinning to stare at the opening to their alcove. The voice of Minerva McGonagall joined in then, and Draco was surprised to hear it here of all places in her old stomping ground where she had not been in almost a year. That must mean that the Order had arrived. Draco and Snape exchanged a look. It communicated more than just goodbye. It was something shared on a deeper level - two men who had been driven to the brink of despair by their pasts, trapped by circumstances beyond their control and desperate to escape. As he straightened and gripped his wand, preparing to leave, Snape shot him one last glance. It was intense, a spark kindling in the black depths of his eyes.

"You were stupid to come up here alone, Draco," he scolded almost mournfully, his tone agonised, "Don't let her out of your sight for even a second…"

And with that he had swept into the hallway to confront Potter and McGonagall, playing his role to perfection once more. Draco was left with those parting words ringing in his head. He assumed the man was referring to Hermione, but it made him pause, a troubling twist of nausea in his stomach. It sounded so personal, so heart wrenchingly real. As if Snape knew what it was like to suffer true loss.

And bloody hell, he was absolutely right too. Draco didn't give a damn what the Order had to say or who was there to watch them. He was going to return to Hermione this instant and refuse to leave her side until it was all over.

.…

….

….

Hermione's gaze darted frantically around the entrance hall. Rubble was flying everywhere and the sounds of terrified screams reverberated around the high ceiling. Worst of all, there was a pungent smell permeating the whole area, like burning flesh. Her chest had a searing pain inside it; partly from the furious thrumming of adrenalin coursing through her and partly from the dust she was inhaling with every breath.

Her greatest worry right now was for protecting her friends and Draco. The four of them were standing back to back in a close huddle, each facing a different direction so that they were fighting on all sides. But despite the cleverness of their plan, it certainly wasn't an easy position to be in. Not only was she battling with the infamous Harry Potter standing on her right hand side, but it had become painfully clear to the other Death Eaters that Draco Malfoy had betrayed them. He was back to back with the Chosen One, obviously fighting for the other side. The anger and violence that this triggered was overwhelming. Masked figures were yelling obscenities at them and Draco was probably dealing with the brunt of the curses aimed their way.

Hermione was out of breath and her arms and legs shaking with exhaustion when Harry sidled closer to speak with to her over his shoulder. He had to yell to be heard above the cacophony of noise in the hall.

"We need to get the hell out of here," he called out.

"Bloody right we do!" She heard Draco respond on her left between heavy breaths. She had been listening to him cursing vehemently as he threw hexes around, and it had sounded like he was swearing at his wand in frustration.

"We need to find the snake," Harry reminded them.

"Can you see where it is? Can you see into his mind?"

Harry groaned slightly.

"We need to go somewhere quiet."

"Over there…"

Ron pointed towards a narrow hallway that led in a roundabout way towards the northern tower and the group started to slowly make their way in that direction. With a pang of sympathy, Hermione could hear Draco having hoarse coughing fits. She knew that he had suffered the most from the fiendfyre that had driven them from the Room of Requirement. The black, noxious smoke had invaded his lungs and he was still in some degree of pain, his breaths rasping and uneven.

She also knew that he was feeling devastated by what had occurred shortly after they had found the diadem of Ravenclaw. He had tried so hard to reason with Crabbe, but the boy had gone completely mad. The hefty Slytherin was consumed by a dark, evil rage. And not even his old house companion had been able to get through to him.

But at least they had been able to save Goyle. The poor boy had looked so confused, so totally lost that Hermione had actually felt truly sorry for him. He was still a lumbering idiot, but he didn't seem to want to hurt anyone. Draco had insisted on flying back to save him from the climbing flames, choking and spluttering on smoke but ultimately rescuing him from certain death. Sprawled out and recovering in the hallway outside afterwards, Goyle had stammered out his lack of understanding about what was going on. He had almost instinctively turned to Draco to give him orders, probably out of habit from years of being one of his burly bodyguards. Draco had told him in no uncertain terms to get the hell out of Hogwarts while he still could.

Hermione's heart had gone out to Goyle. He had just watched his old friend die horrifically and now he was afraid and alone. But he had gratefully accepted Draco's instructions, apparating away clumsily with a small sigh of relief.

As the four of them rounded the corner and entered the hallway, Hermione quickly cast some wards to seal off the entrance, plunging them into an eerie silence. Draco collapsed onto the floor immediately, rubbing at his chest with wracking coughs and nursing a burnt hand. The attacks on him had been brutal out there.

"They seem to really hate you," Ron commented mildly, looking down at the blond Slytherin boy in morbid curiosity.

"Yeh no shit" he replied in a croaky voice, "I'm out there fighting next to Harry fucking Potter. I'm just glad that Lucius hasn't made an appearance. But then that son of a bitch is probably snivelling somewhere behind the Dark Lord's robes, too cowardly to do anything except kiss his arse."

Ron snorted, reluctantly amused despite himself. They all turned to watch Harry for a moment, but saw that he was crouching down with his eyes gently closed, brows furrowed as he immersed himself into Voldemort's thoughts. He was totally absorbed in his task. While they were waiting, Hermione knelt down next to Draco, checking him over with a worried gaze.

"Are you alright?" she murmured quietly, and he nodded once in response.

"I'll be fine, as long as breathing isn't too important" he croaked, giving her a wry smile. She returned it, lifting her wand and casting a few simple charms to clean his lungs and air passage. As she did, he took a deep gasp of air in, a look of relief on his face.

"Much better," he assured her, sounding slightly less strained. She beamed at him, but then shivered slightly as he reached up and brushed his fingers over her cheek. His thumb ran just across a long gash in her skin and he leaned forward to place a small kiss there.

A strangled coughing sound made them both jolt away from each other, totally forgetting that Ron was standing right next to them. She shot a guilty look towards her friend, who was staring at the wall and looking rather green.

"Sorry," she mumbled, rising to her feet. She darted a quick glare back down at Draco, trying to warn him not to look quite so cocky. His smug smile certainly wouldn't help the situation.

Before the tension could shift at all, Harry was returning to them with a convulsive jerk of his body. He blinked his green eyes and stared around blearily as he got his bearings.

"Well?" Hermione asked him eagerly, seeing that determination in his eyes he often carried.

"The snake is with Voldemort," he said in a strangely calm voice, not afraid to say his name now that the taboo no longer seemed to matter. Not with a battle raging around them, "He's protecting it in some kind of shield. He knows we're going to try and kill it."

"How do we get to it, then?" Ron asked with a frown, his skin so pale it made his freckles stand out clearly on his face.

"I don't know," Harry replied, staring almost blindly at the opposite wall, "We could try and sneak up on it. They're in the Shrieking Shack…"

"He probably doesn't know about the secret passageway," Hermione reminded him with a slight shrug. Harry nodded numbly, before his gaze sharpened and he turned to stare directly at Draco.

"Snape was there. He was talking about _you_."

Hermione shot a confused look down at Draco. But to her surprise he didn't seem at all phased by this revelation. If anything he was looking thoughtful and he was nodding. But before Harry could elaborate on the reason for this, a shrill sound echoed around them and the four of them winced as a cold, high voice pierced the air, echoing around their heads and instantly creating a sharp headache behind her eyes.

" _You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured._

 _I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."_

As the voice faded away, Hermione's eyes sought out her friend instantly. She looked at him with a sense of dread as sickness twisted in her stomach. Harry's face was stony and grim. It made her dread increase, knowing the agony and the guilt he felt when people made sacrifices for him. There was a genuine possibility that he would do something very noble and very stupid.

"Harry no-" she began, before emotion forced her voice to trail away and she felt that stinging in her eyes that signaled tears. She wanted to beg him not to try and be too brave, she wanted to throw herself at him and hold him, keeping him with her. But before she could say anything, her eyes were drawn to the blond head next to her that had finally sat forward, looking equally serious as he reached into his pocket with a shaking hand. Draco drew out a small glass vial slowly, its contents shimmering and silvery. He inched forwards, holding it out in front of Harry in the palm of his hand and swallowing visibly.

"Well, Potter," he murmured, "I think it's probably time to give you _this…_ "

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 **Oops. Another cliffhanger. Please leave reviews! They always inspire me to write faster (I was probably too slow with this update, my apologies!) Looking forward to hearing from you.**


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Chapter Eighteen**

 **Back again with more Battle of Hogwarts. Hopefully you are all okay with some of the changes I've made to Deathly Hallows. Some of them were necessary and others a whimsical opportunity to transform things to my liking! Story wrapping up fairly soon. Not really sure how to end it. As always, JKR is the owner and proprietor.**

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Draco wrapped his arms tighter around the body that was shivering fretfully against him. He tried to rub soothing hands over her back, but Hermione was lost deep inside her own grief and pain. It was a sentiment shared by many of the wizards and witches huddled around in the Great Hall, as the eerie silence that had descended an hour ago rung out clear and chilling over the castle. The Death Eaters had retreated upon their master's command, and the Order of the Phoenix and students of Hogwarts had holed themselves up inside the castle to nurse their wounds and gather the dead. Pockets of people were scattered around the hall in groups. Some were slumped with exhaustion in a kind of weary numbness, eyes staring blankly at the walls. Others were wailing or crying out in despair as they held loved ones close, mourning for those lost. The Weasleys were knotted together in a flurry of arms and sobs, encircling the body of one of the twins. Draco wasn't sure which one. The other twin could not be convinced to leave his brother's side, holding on with a white knuckled embrace that not even the father could coax him from.

Others lay nearby too, some far too young to have been involved in this fight. Draco wondered why they hadn't been evacuated from the castle with the other students. Although, since many of them appeared to be young Gryffindor students he imagined that nothing could have stopped them from sneaking back in, determined to defend their precious Hogwarts. He couldn't judge them. It was surprisingly painful to see the majestic castle and its students confronted with such decay and destruction. Every stone torn down into rubble and every cracked window that had shattered into a million pieces like festival fireworks sent a jarring shudder of regret through him. This was their home, after all. Especially for people like him and Potter, who had treasured every moment in this castle, reluctant to return home in the summer. It was around fourth year, after all, that Draco started to hate the holidays. His father's spite and his obsessive, sycophantic cruelty had become too much to bear by then, with the return of Voldemort looming throughout those long, terrifying months. Hogwarts had been a sanctuary. And later, by sixth year, it held Hermione within its walls. And he had cherished each moment he spent near her, even if they did not speak.

At that moment Hermione let out a weak little whimper, Draco shuffled his body slightly to pull her closer, running a hand softly through her hair and murmuring calming words in her ear. He wasn't sure what he should say, but he suspected she couldn't really hear him anyway. The two of them were separated a bit, nestled into a corner of the Great Hall as others grieved around them. Nobody bothered to shoot him distrustful looks or glares. He had been fighting alongside them throughout the battle, and now he held one of their own tenderly in his arms. He was unofficially accepted now. He had been worried about the Order giving him trouble when they arrived, but there were much more important things going on. Kingsley had even sent a polite, if terse, nod in his direction earlier when they had been helping people into the hall. And he was trying not to dwell too much on the broken, crumpled body of Remus Lupin some distance away near the opposite wall. It seemed rather pointless to resent the man now. He could see his cousin Nymphadora standing to one side, her shoulders shaking as she cried, seeking comfort in the arms of her father Ted, who had turned up to fight with the rest of the Order. Longbottom had mentioned something earlier about Ted Tonks bravely throwing his daughter out of the way of danger when an explosion forced a wall to collapse near them, raining down spells from above. But he had been too late to save his son-in-law. Draco wondered for a moment how Andromeda would react. She was probably at home looking after the baby, but surely someone should tell her…

After a long time Hermione seemed to have calmed a little bit, as she sunk against him heavily, her fingers digging into his shirt between his shoulder blades. Her breath was rasping and shallow but her body had stopped its heaving motions. Maybe she was all cried out. Draco gently brushed the hair back from her face. Her cheeks were wet and sticky from tears and her eyes were bleary, but she blinked up at him, her gaze relatively clear.

"Are you alright?" he asked warily, rubbing his nose along hers and holding her close.

"Not really. I just wish I knew where he was and what he's doing. I wish he didn't have to go…"

Draco let out a long breath and pressed his forehead against hers, cursing Potter for being such a self-sacrificing bastard.

"Did Potter say anything before he left?" he asked.

"He just said that he had to go. That it was always supposed to end like this. I don't know what Snape showed him, but it was obviously something important."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Snape sooner," Draco told her with a solemn sigh, "He was insistent that I wait until the right moment…"

Hermione gave him a sad little smile. Her fingers tightened around his back.

"It's fine. You were protecting him. Do you really think he's fighting on our side?"

Draco nodded.

"I reckon he's always been loyal to Dumbledore. There was something else going on that night on the astronomy tower. It was weird, the way the old man was acting. And then afterwards Snape helped me… he suspected that I had feelings for you, but never said anything to the Dark Lord. "

Hermione nestled her face into his neck and he held her for a few moments while she considered this. For almost a year she had thought that Snape was a traitor and a Death Eater, so it must be difficult to suddenly trust him based on very little evidence. If only he knew what had been contained in that pensive memory Potter had watched not long ago. Whatever it was, the boy had immediately emerged from the basin looking grim, haunted even. He had hugged Ron and then Hermione and he had shaken Draco's hand. And then he had wandered his way through the castle, paying no heed to the protests of his friends, and headed towards the forbidden forest.

"I hope he doesn't do anything stupid," Hermione whispered into his chest after a tense pause. Draco's fingers stroked through her hair tenderly once more.

"Potter has a knack for staying alive despite impossible odds. I'm sure he's going to be alright this time too…"

He tried to sound as sincere as he could, but worried that the words sounded hollow and tinged with hopelessness. Especially because it seemed to him like this time maybe Potter's luck would finally run out. He was alone and facing Voldemort with nothing more than his own sense of fatalistic determination. But regardless, he drew Hermione close, placing another soft kiss on her forehead, trying to be strong and optimistic for her sake. All they could do now was wait and hope that The Boy Who Lived would be gifted with another kind of miracle to help him survive this.

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Harry was very careful to keep his breathing controlled and shallow so that none of the gathered Death Eaters would see his chest rising and falling. His mind was still a little fuzzy from waking from whatever strange trance had come over him when Voldemort's spell hit him square in the chest. A sense of contentment had fallen over him earlier, but the peacefulness of Kings Cross Station was slowly fading as he became aware of other textures and smells. Like the prickling of bark and twigs against his ribs where he lay on the forest floor. Or the smell of wood smoke from a nearby campfire. And through his fluttering eyelids he could see the darkness of the forest, such a contrast to the pallid grey haze of the train station.

Voices began to materialise around him as the slight ringing in his ears dulled until his brain started to register specific sounds. A boot crunched down on some leaves near his face and the hissing of many people whispering rose in the clearing. Then Voldemort's voice called out high and more panicked than Harry had ever heard before.

"Check him…Severus hurry…"

A figure loomed over him, crouching down until he could smell the distinctive scent of sandalwood and herbs. He kept his eyes closed, but knew with complete certainty who had approached him. A brush of oily hair told him that Snape was leaning down over him, and then he felt a bony hand on his neck, two fingers checking his pulse.

 _The sight of the doe erupting from Snape's wand glimmered on the back of his eyelids. Harry stared at the blurry figure of Dumbledore in the memory, his features shocked as he gazed upon the doe's dainty features. His incredulity was something matched by Harry in the memory, looking upon the scene with a kind of detached wonder, everything locking into place in his mind. And then Snape's response, firm and ardent…_

 _Always._

He allowed his eyes to flutter as he took a breath, trusting Severus Snape for what must surely be the first time in his entire life. Years of suspicion and dislike crumbled under the careful, slightly trembling touch of the man who had loved his mother.

"Did Draco show you…?"

Snape muttered the words very close to his face, his usually cold, sneering voice filled with anxiety. Subtly, Harry nodded his head, one eye opening to peer up at the sallow, hook nosed face of his old potions teacher. Snape appeared to grit his yellowed teeth together in a victorious snarl.

"Then let's finish this," he rasped, before rising to his feet. The cold, emotionless mask was once more in place as he faced Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Harry squinted up in fascination as the notorious traitor and spy looked his master straight in the eye. He had played his role so perfectly and had committed to such a horrific part with such dedication that Harry and Malfoy were the only two people in the world who knew (and probably Hermione by now, he guessed). There was an almost wicked, savage glint in the man's obsidian eyes as he took his next deep breath. Then he snarled out the two words that would send them reeling into the next phase of this terrible war.

" _He's dead_."

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….

Hermione's heart was pounding painfully in her chest as the procession of ominously cloaked Death Eaters moved in a wave up the front lawn towards the castle. They had removed their masks, not bothering to conceal their identities anymore.

A feeling like ash was on her tongue, burning her throat as she tried to hold back her cries. The looming figure of Hagrid was ambling along in ropes at the front of the group, carrying a slumped figure that was unmistakeable. Shouts of despair rang out across the open area, but Hermione barely heard them. Her round, piercing eyes were fixed on that boneless figure, willing it to move, praying that Harry would jump up and give her that soft smile of his and yell "gotcha".

But he didn't. And as the Death Eaters came to a stop, the gleeful, triumphant grin on Voldemort's twisted face was answer enough. And in that moment the only thing that was stopping Hermione from racing towards her friend were the arms wrapped around her, holding her close. Draco was anchored behind her, keeping her still and safe. He too was breathing unevenly as he gasped in shock at the scene confronting them.

Hermione refused to listen as Voldemort spewed filthy lies about her beloved friend, instead just standing there in a state of numbness. The pale, slit nosed wizard was a strange mixture of jubilant and menacing as he addressed the crowd. Then, slowly, as his glinting red eyes swept over the people gathered before him, he froze. His voice trailed away, drawing curious looks from his followers. But he continued to stare at a point just beyond Hermione's shoulder. And that's when she realised who he had seen.

"Draco Malfoy…" the dark wizard hissed and the reaction was immediate and palpable. A murmuring passed through the crowd of Death Eaters. All eyes turned towards him, and Hermione reached down to grip his hand tightly where he still held onto her waist. It was trembling. Draco's own stare was directed back stubbornly, chin held high despite the slight sweat in his palm that she could feel. His gaze flickered across to another person standing a few metres away from Voldemort, whose familiar striking blond hair was instantly recognisable. Lucius looked stunned, completely and totally agape with horror at the view in front of him.

"It seems like we've finally found your wayward son, Lucius. Now you know _exactly_ where he has been all this time. Not to mention… _who_ he has been consorting with," there was a look of disgust on Voldemort's face as he snarled these words, as though there were a bad smell under his flat, snake-like nose.

Hearing his master's words, a dark shadow overtook the older Malfoy's expression. He absorbed the sight of his only child, standing firm among the ranks of Hogwarts students and Order members, hand entwined with the infamous muggleborn friend of Harry Potter. His features were livid, ferocious with rage and betrayal.

"He is no son of mine," the wizard cried in outrage, spitting on the ground between them. This seemed to start a fresh volley of anger among the Death Eaters. Bellatrix was the first voice to call out, screaming " _You filthy blood traitor_ " at the top of her voice, echoed by the jeers and shrieks of others. Hermione's grip tightened impossibly on Draco's hand. But through it all he just stood there, calm and still in the face of this barrage of hatred. His expression did not even flinch as the cloaked men and women in front of him hurled foul words their way. More than one voice was audible in the crowd labelling her as his mudblood whore, but there was something strange and detached in the way that Hermione heard it, as though it meant nothing now. Not when she was faced with the dead body of her best friend, and certainly not with the swelling pride she felt standing here hand in hand with Draco; cool, unruffled and totally content with his place by her side. She had never felt more certain of her love for him than now as he received this abuse with such composure.

Eventually the tide of filth died down, leaving only Voldemort as the centre of this tense scene, stepping forward with prowling footsteps until he stood closer than ever. His normally cold eyes were almost blazing as he fixed them on Draco, his expression deranged. The students and adults on their side shuffled closer, surrounding Draco in a sort of protective circle in response.

"How fortunate you're here, little Malfoy," Voldemort taunted in his high, chilling voice, "I've been hoping you could help me fix a problem I've been having."

As he spoke, Hermione noticed that he was twirling his wand curiously around in his fingers, his expression almost wild.

"You see, now that Harry Potter is dead-" another round of jeering rose up from the Death Eaters at the mention of this, "-there's only one thing standing in my way. _This_ wand is… almost mine. Severus explained it all to me. And now it's your time to beg for mercy. Your sacrifice will make me more powerful than any other wizard in history."

Hermione's eyes flickered up to Draco. His jaw was set in a firm grimace, but he didn't seem at all confused by these odd claims. It was almost as if he had been expecting them. Everyone else around them, however, on either side, was looking on with a puzzlement that reflected her own feelings. She sidled closer to him, suddenly filled with trepidation. At the same time, a few other people near them raised their wands in a defensive stance. Ginny was there, looking ferocious. All the Weasleys were. And Ted Tonks had stepped forward ready to protect him too, Luna and Neville flanking him.

And then Voldemort was hissing something in a language that Hermione had only ever heard spoken by Harry a few times in her life. The snake Nagini unfurled herself slowly from where she had been concealed, rising up to peer in Draco's direction. She listened intently to the parseltongue instructions.

" _Now, Nagini! Bring him to me,_ " Voldemort repeated in a more familiar tongue, and the snake launched into action. She practically flew across the grass, her fangs glinting in the cold light of approaching dawn. Hermione's heart clenched tightly in terror, facing the beast with a pulse that thundered. The people crowded around them tried to fire spells at the slippery creature, but they made no impact against her thick scales. Hermione and Draco stumbled backwards as Nagini reared her head back. Her teeth were sharp and deadly.

But then in a flurry of movement, several things happened within a short space of time. First a ringing crack reverberated across the grounds and Dobby the house elf stood materialised there. His tiny hands were clutching something bedraggled and almost unrecognisable. With wide, milky eyes he stared fearfully at the snake for a moment, before thrusting his bundle towards the nearby figure of Neville Longbottom. Hermione watched, her mind frozen with bewilderment, as Neville's eyes widened. His mouth stretched into a grin of triumph, and at that same time she too saw the glint of something very memorable inside what appeared to be the sorting hat.

Neville withdrew the sword with a strong, surprisingly muscular arm. He brandished it confidently. It was like watching a completely different person in action. This strong and imposing figure surely couldn't be the one and only Neville Longbottom. But then before she could dwell on this shock, he was swinging the blade in a wide arc, catching with perfect timing the violent lunge of the snake. As he did, Dobby threw himself to the side, covering his ears and hiding behind the legs of Luna Lovegood, clutching onto her ankles. At the same time, Hermione felt herself grabbed by strong arms. Her body went numb as Draco threw her behind him, shielding her with his own body. But it didn't matter. A piercing wail split the dawn air, vibrating out from the headless, writhing form of the snake. Neville stood panting over its body, sword in hand. Voldemort's own voice could be heard roaring with pure white rage.

And that was the moment when things really went mad. Because just when she thought the evil wizard would destroy them all with a furious burst of his wand, a surge of voices cried out, pointing to where Hagrid stood. And there was Harry Potter, most definitely _not_ dead, tumbling from his arms with a cheeky flourish of his wand. The Death Eaters went into a panic. Voices yelling in disbelief, screams of relief and terror mingled. And then there was a flash of colour that she knew only too well – the velvety material of his invisibility cloak – and suddenly he had vanished right before their eyes. More cries of fear followed.

Hermione felt like a weight lifted suddenly from her lungs. She stumbled forwards, grasping Draco's hand again and the two beamed at each other in shared delight, although Draco gave a little roll of his eyes and she could have sworn she heard him mutter _"what a theatrical bastard"_ before they were suddenly running backwards towards the entrance hall amidst a wave of activity.

Harry had done it again, she realised then as she clutched her wand in one hand and Draco in the other.

He really was the boy-who-lived.

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It wasn't until sometime later, as the number of Death Eaters thinned and dwindled considerably, that Draco had a chance to take a breath. When he saw that they finally had a moment of peace, he tugged Hermione to one side of the Great Hall, resting a gentle arm around her shoulders. Around them a number of fights were still going, but more and more people were pausing for a brief respite as the fury of battle eased and became isolated to a few smaller pockets. It had been a long and gruelling night. Gaunt faces, drawn with exhaustion, surrounded them. And in the centre of all this Voldemort's own helpless frustration only seemed to increase as his spells appeared weak and ineffective against the strong wizards facing him now; McGonagall, Shacklebolt, Arthur Weasley. Draco had never seen him so afraid.

Basking in this temporary moment of rest, Hermione turned her face up, a sigh of relief falling from her lips.

"He's alive. Harry's alive," she murmured into Draco's chest as her brown eyes peered up at him.

"He's a smug git," Draco drawled, giving her a wry little smirk to show that he was only teasing, "I swear Potter's got more lives than a phoenix."

Hermione relaxed against him, but her eyes were still scanning cautiously over the room as he rubbed her back soothingly.

"Where do you think he is?"

Draco shrugged, wondering the same thing.

"He'll be around somewhere close by. Waiting for the right moment," Draco snorted then, thinking about that damn invisibility cloak he was hiding under, "At least now I know for sure I wasn't going crazy when I saw Potter's floating head in Hogsmeade all those years ago."

Hermione blushed a bit guiltily and chuckled. Then a shattering of rubble nearby forced them to duck and slink over to one side of the grand staircase. Draco grasped her hand and guided her as he crept around the fallen debris. Through the haze of dust he distantly saw Bellatrix bracing herself against an onslaught of ginger hair, as the portly Mrs Weasley fought like a lioness to protect her nearby cubs.

Before he could point out the scene to Hermione, however, a flash of white blond hair caught his eye, jolting out in front of them. He raised his wand instinctively and cast a protective charm. It was lucky he did because a reddish spell battered against it, sending out a loud crack as it did. Draco stumbled but stood tall, moving to protect Hermione with his body as he came face to face with the one person who he had been dreading seeing more than any other.

With a sadistic smile curling at his lips, Lucius Malfoy approached him, his pace frantic. His eyes were bloodshot and cold. And as he came closer, Draco could see the haggard, skeletal appearance of his face, corpse-like and contorted with fury.

Without even pausing to trade words with his traitorous offspring, the older Malfoy raised his wand high.

Lucius did not bother hesitating for even a moment, the face of his only son holding no sway over him now.

A burst of green erupted from his wand.

It was pointed straight at Hermione.

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 **Hope you enjoyed this one. I did make some obvious changes to canon, but still trying to keep it the same. I was desperately trying to think if I'd forgotten something important. Hallows? Horcruxes? Check? My brain needs a rest. Please review and let me know how this war should end and how our lovers will move on from here…**


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Chapter Nineteen**

 **Let's settle that mean cliff-hanger nice and quickly shall we? Story rounding up now but still not confident about my ending... As always, all the beautiful characters belong to JKR.**

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 _Lucius did not bother hesitating for even a moment, the face of his only son holding no sway over him now._

 _A burst of green erupted from his wand._

 _It was pointed straight at Hermione._

Draco launched himself to the side, thrusting his body against hers and knocking her to the ground. A searing heat rippled across the air above him, sending vibrations of dark, insidious magic crawling through his skin. He distantly heard Hermione gasp as she hit the stone floor, choking on her breath as she became winded. They both scrambled for a moment, each grasping their wands. He felt the humming of a ward wrapped around them and realised that she had cast a protective charm. Draco felt a trickle of relief, silently sending her a look of gratitude that she was so quick with her spells.

"Get up and meet your death, you useless piece of shit!"

Lucius's voice echoed surprisingly loudly around the vaulted ceiling of the Great Hall. It was a cold and chilling sound. Draco let his eyes dart around the large room briefly, but to his confusion nobody was waiting to help them. Then he saw why. A short distance away, Potter had evidently removed his invisibility cloak and was standing tall and proud, facing up to Voldemort with a strange sort of confidence. And standing by his side was Severus Snape, obsidian eyes blazing. His true loyalties were exposed at last and he was finally there beside Potter where he belonged. Voldemort looked positively white with fury.

In the next second, Draco's gaze quickly returned to the older Malfoy man before them. It was clear that they would get no help from anyone else. All eyes were drawn to the fight with Voldemort, a crowd gathering there in a haphazard circle. He felt Hermione's fingernails dig into his arm as she strengthened her protective shield, and he took a deep breath and started to rise slowly to his feet.

"Draco-" she muttered tentatively, voice still tight from how she had landed. He gave her hand a quick squeeze in reassurance before he held himself tall, facing his father head on for the first time in months.

"Put down your wand, Lucius," he said tightly, his own wand held out in a warning stance, "You've lost. Look around you. The Death Eaters are all dead or gone."

Lucius's jaw twitched as his lips turned almost blue from rage.

"Cowards and fools! I know what I must do."

Draco stared at him with disbelief.

"You would kill your own son?"

"Better dead than a disgrace to the name of Malfoy!"

Draco tightened his grip on his wand, feeling his palm moisten with sweat around the wood. He forced his teeth to grind together rather than give the older man the satisfaction of responding to his vile words. He thought of his mother, his poor fragile mother who could not bear to be part of such a life anymore. She had given up, fading away into nothingness. It gave him the anger he needed to throw his first curse at the man who had brought him into this world.

" _Stupefy!_ "

Lucius flicked it away easily, laughing maniacally at the efforts of his son.

"Is that the best you've got?"

The hexes ricocheted back and forth between them, battering against the shield that Hermione was holding steady. Lucius was relentless. He was fighting to kill, throwing slashing curses and bombarding him with all manner of dark spells that would no doubt result in a slow and painful death. Draco was certainly not accustomed to this kind of fighting. Six years of patchy and sometimes completely useless lessons in Defence Against the Dark Arts had not prepared him for this. The sheer force of his father's fury drove his curses forwards, strengthening them and making them far more potent than they should have been. Draco felt his arm aching and becoming boneless, his wand shaking and weak inside his slippery hand.

 _Bloody…Potter…_

He knew the scruffy haired menace had done something unusual to his wand! Something had changed the moment Potter disarmed him. It just wasn't working the same as it usually did. At that moment a streak of blue flames darted by him, close enough to singe his hair. Seeing the malicious gleam in his father's eye directed towards the curly haired girl near him, Draco quickly shuffled to the side, protecting Hermione with his body.

"You pathetic little mudblood lover," his father yelled at him as he advanced. And before Draco could react, a stinging curse was rippling through the shield and he felt a burning pain in his sternum, right across the old wound where Potter had torn him in two during sixth year. He tried to gasp, but the pressure in his chest was immense. With a faint tingling of horror, Draco became aware that his vision was swimming, a black haze descending on the room as his chest throbbed in agony. He felt himself falling; it felt like he was plummeting further and further into nothingness. He blinked rapidly but everything was becoming distant and the cacophony of sounds in the room faded to a mere echo.

One thing he did become cognisant of in that moment was the warm weight of arms encircling him. A soothing voice rang in his ear, begging him to be okay, pleading with him to stay awake, stay alert. Hermione lowered him gently to the floor. He could smell her perfume as a soft undertone to the pervasive scent of burning flesh and blood surrounding them. He felt the tip of her wand against his chest, a flinching pain he barely registered amidst the agony already there. He heard her low, chanting voice as she traced across his ribs, and the pain eased somewhat. Then there was a sort of numbness.

"Time to die, mudblood-"

Draco's body jerked at the words, his brain reminding him what he was supposed to be doing, screaming at him to get up, to protect, to fight.

 _Lucius…_

He had suffered a blow, but Lucius was still a looming threat. And now his attention would turn to Hermione, whose only concern was protecting him.

 _Get up you bastard…_

As his mind screamed these words, Draco forced his eyes open, jaw clenching and grinding in pain, and looked around. He saw Lucius towering there, wand raised and ready to strike the fatal blow. He saw a few loose curls draped across his cheek and forehead, revealing that Hermione was there sitting over him, cradling him to her chest to shield him from whatever was coming.

But then he noticed that Lucius had frozen. He was glaring in outrage at some point just above them, an expression of confusion on his features. Draco's eyes wearily slid up and he saw the new figure emerge from the soot and the dust. At first he thought it was Bellatrix, and believed for a split second that they were doomed. _But that couldn't be right…_ Bellatrix had been fighting the Weasleys and she surely wouldn't leave Voldemort's side now. He pressed his eyes closed tightly for a second and opened them, trying to focus and understand what was happening.

"Stay the hell away from him," a familiar voice snarled, though it was in a tone he had not heard before; a fierce, protective growl. Lucius appeared totally bewildered. He gaped dumbly at the new assailant.

" _You!_ " he exclaimed, a creeping sense of fear passing over his features.

Draco knew who it was then; the dark brown, almost black hair, the sunken eyes and pale delicate features. She exuded a cold, savage fury as she slowly raised her wand towards the blond man. Draco felt his own tingling of fear at the appearance of the woman, so fearsome and raw with power. He should have known that any member of the Black family, even an outcast, would be a sight to behold in battle. And Andromeda Tonks looked like she had been waiting all her life for this one single moment. Her soft, dull eyes were lit up like fireworks.

"This is for my sister…" she hissed, and then Draco was squinting his eyes half shut against the bright, flashing whoosh of a spell streaking through the air. The sound was followed almost instantly by the thud of a body as it crumpled to the stone floor, and he watched in horrified fascination at the sight he had been anticipating for many months.

Lucius was no more.

The steely grey eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling above. A shiver of relief passed through Draco, waking him from the numb pain that had consumed him.

His father was dead. And yet he felt a strange trickle of sadness; not for Lucius of course. That ship had sailed long again, leaving only bitterness and hatred. But for his mother. Narcissa had been gloriously avenged by her sister, and yet he wished she could have lived to breathe the fresh air of freedom and escape the toxic influence of her husband. He sent a quick thought to her, turning his face away from the sight of the blond man's body in front of him.

"Are you alright?"

Andromeda crouched down near them, her dark eyes wide with concern. She was trembling a bit, which didn't surprise him. Dark magic always left traces. But she was resilient, and she had saved his life. As he panted and struggled for breath, Draco nodded blearily. Hermione was still tracing her wand over his chest, and with every pass the pressure eased somewhat until he almost felt like he could draw in a lungful of air.

"Th…thank you," he stammered eventually in a hoarse voice. His aunt grasped his shoulder in an affectionate gesture, a melancholy smile cracking her lips.

"I'm very sorry, Draco," she murmured to him, "I know he was your father, but…"

He lifted his own hand to grab hers, giving it a squeeze and interrupting her.

"Don't. Please don't apologize for what you did. It was…right."

She hesitated, searching his face for any doubt, but then she nodded when she found only gratitude and peace there. Draco steadied himself with a deep breath and pushed himself into a seated position.

"Draco, you're still hurt-" Hermione began, her voice cracking with concern. He turned towards her, giving her a wry smile.

"Stop worrying, Gryffindor," he teased her, placing a soft kiss on her cheek through the layer of dust and grime caked on there, "You patched me up real good. But now I think there's somewhere else you should be…"

He pointed vaguely over to the other side of the hall where the circle of spectators stood, frozen with tension as Potter and the Dark Lord exchanged terse, meaningful words with one another. They were still circling one another like cats waiting to pounce. Hermione's face instantly turned white.

"Harry…" she whispered, and he gave her a nod of encouragement, letting her know without words that he was all right and that she was free to go to her friend. She stared at him and then before he knew what was happening she was planting a furious kiss on his mouth, a whimper of desperation escaping her lips before pulling away with a smile. With one last hurried kiss, Hermione immediately shot to her feet and flew across the room, dodging piles of rubble and what was probably a fair few bodies. Draco watched her go with a swelling of pleasure in his chest, burning underneath the lingering pain still there.

"She's a keeper, you know," Andromeda pointed out, giving him a slightly knowing smile as she helped him clamber to his feet.

"Oh don't worry," he assured her quietly, "I have absolutely no intention of letting her go."

And with that the aunt and nephew began to meander their way slowly towards the group, her supporting him as he walked with a tentative limp. He wondered if he should saying anything about Remus being dead, or seeing Tonks earlier, but he knew that it could wait. There would be time to mourn and gather families together later. For now it was nice to just sit back and watch Harry Potter, the boy who lived _twice_ to finally take down that grotesque, snake faced bastard.

Which he did, approximately five minutes later…

….

….

….

There was an odd, creeping silence that had descended over the castle in the late afternoon as dusk approached. Hermione shifted upright, pulling her woollen jacket closer around her. An unseasonably cold wind had picked up some time ago. In the calm after the battle, she had thought the gentle morning sunlight was strangely appropriate, like the picturesque dawn of a new era. But then the rain had come. And now she saw that this was far more suitable. It beat down upon the castle, washing away the dirt and blood as it cleansed their home and made everything fresh again.

It was cold, but nice. Like an icy drink of water at the end of a hot day.

The rain had not lessened the buzz of activity in the castle earlier. People had gathered in pockets, grieving for those who had been killed. Parents and families had been summoned. The might of the ministry had turned up, throwing its weight around before slinking back with its tail between its legs. Kingsley had swiftly taken charge, ridding the castle of any petty bureaucracy and declaring that Hogwarts was a place for those who fought and those who sacrificed, effectively getting rid of all the politicians as he tasked them with other responsibilities. The few key Order members who were not badly injured were ruthless and painstaking in identifying the bodies of Death Eaters. They knew it was vital to make a list of those unaccounted for, those who had fled. They would need to be tracked down by the aurors without a moment to lose.

Minerva had been instrumental in piecing things back together that morning. She was a tower of strength, calming down frantic children and facing all the madness with a dignity that Hermione envied. She was firm but kind, and nobody dared to argue with her when she gave instructions. It was just what they needed at that time.

Minerva had taken control of all the Hogwarts students, setting up a triage station to process everybody's injuries and assemble a team of healers. Hermione herself had worked tirelessly for hours, assisting Madam Pomfrey with some of the more serious cases. She had barely had a moment to herself since everything ended.

Eventually she had collapsed onto a makeshift cot in a little brewing wing off the main area. Her body was completely exhausted. She had fallen into a deep sleep, her mind a dreamy haze for what was probably an hour or two. A gentle kiss on her forehead had drifted into her consciousness during sleep. Draco's scent had been familiar, even in her dreams. He had spent much of the morning with Andromeda, giving her support as she sorted out the situation with Tonks and baby Teddy as well as helping Kingsley's men identify the Death Eaters. But despite that, he had still come to check up on her, placing a blanket over her shivering body and kissing her tenderly.

But now Hermione was awake and the blond boy was nowhere to be seen. She wished she could have tugged him onto the cot and curled up together, basking in his warmth. A yawn escaped her, but she couldn't bring herself to sleep again. Flashes of dark spells and screams had woken her, pulling her from nightmares that would probably never fully go away. And now there was just this sort of eerie silence. Obviously the hive of activity had eased, and people were starting to rest.

When another yawn threatened to overcome her, Hermione sighed quietly to herself and clambered out of the small cot. She stretched her spine with a few satisfying pops, before wandering aimlessly down the hallway in search of something to distract her. On her way she put her head through a number of curtains to make sure no one needed anything, but the entire hospital was soundly asleep. She wished it would come so easily to her.

As Hermione emerged from the castle and onto a rampart near the Hospital Wing, she noticed a familiar pale figure hunched over the railing nearby. His eyes were downcast and bloodshot, set against a white face sunken with misery.

"Hey Ron…" she murmured tentatively, coming to stand beside him and matching his posture, staring out over the grounds. A misty rain was drizzling over them both, but the red haired boy didn't even seem to notice.

"Hi," he said shortly, his voice somewhat hollow. There was an awkward pause as they both struggled with their mixed feelings and pain from the past few weeks. She shifted back and forth on her feet, feeling her mouth go dry as she contemplated him. Her heart skipped with sympathy when she saw the dried tracks of tears on his face.

"This is probably a stupid question but…" she paused and took a deep breath, "Are you alright?"

Ron snorted darkly, shaking his head with eyes that seemed to stare blindly into the distance.

"I don't know. It doesn't seem real, you know? As if it hasn't sunk in yet."

Hermione nodded, propping her chin on her hand.

"How's George doing?"

"Not sure," he replied heavily, "Dad took him home. It was like he was in some kind of coma. Wouldn't say a word, wouldn't even blink or acknowledge anyone."

Hermione felt her throat convulse painfully and she swallowed.

"I'm so sorry, Ron. Your poor family…"

Ron nodded curtly, almost imperceptibly, but when she reached out and placed her hand on his, he returned her grasp. They held each other for a long moment, giving and receiving comfort. And it felt nice, like old times. There was silence between them for what seemed like an age, before Ron twisted his body to face her properly. His cheeks were flushed and he couldn't quite meet her eye.

"I wanted to tell you that…" he paused, his voice choking on the words. He fell silent for a while, glaring at the skyline behind her before he spoke again, "I behaved like an idiot. I was a terrible friend. And I'm sorry."

"Ron-" she began, wanting to reassure him but not quite feeling ready to forgive him completely for everything that had happened just yet. Her voice was weak, but he held up a hand to stop her anyway.

"No, let me finish, please. I completely freaked out when I found out about you and…M…Malfoy," he struggled to say Draco's name, but the expression of resentment on his face had softened somewhat from what it used to be, "I was jealous. I guess I just always thought that you and I would get our act together somehow. I figured we would end up with each other. But I took advantage of you. I just assumed you would be waiting for me when I was ready, but I should have known someone else would come along and realise how bloody amazing you are. I hated him. And I hated you for not wanting me as much as I wanted you."

"Ron, you know I love you, right? You know I'll always be your best friend no matter what…"

"Yeh I know," he murmured, scratching the back of his neck self-consciously, "Which is why it was so stupid and cowardly of me to just run away that night with Harry. He didn't want to, but I insisted. And it was wrong of us. I've regretted it every day since, because your friendship is more important to me than anything else."

"Oh Ron…"

When a wave of emotion swept through her, Hermione leaned in the few centimetres between them and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. The ginger boy tugged her closer, holding her tightly in a bear hug. They stayed like that for a long time, until she felt the drizzle slowly soaking through her clothes and into her skin. She trembled a bit and pulled away. Ron was actually smiling slightly now, although it was fragile and his eyes still appeared haunted. He cocked his head to the side, giving her shoulder a little nudge.

"I also had to accept something very painful today."

"Oh? And what was that?"

Ron blushed.

"Malfoy's actually…well, I can't promise I'll ever _like_ him or anything…but he's useful in a fight. And he's changed. A _lot_."

Hermione felt her lips twitch and then stretch into a grin. She stared at Ron in disbelief, but he was studiously looking at the scenery below and not meeting her gaze.

"He _has_ changed," she agreed softly, "I think we all have."

"That's true. But I'm man enough to admit that I was wrong about him. He clearly didn't want to be a Death Eater. And he seems to care about you."

"He certainly does," she confirmed, answering his implied question with a tender smile, remembering the soft kiss placed on her forehead and the blanket draped around her shivering form as she slept earlier. Ron snorted and flushed, turning to lean on the stone railing once more.

"Alright, alright. But if he ever does _anything_ to hurt you I will kick his ass."

Hermione chuckled, giving his shoulder a bump in return.

"Fair enough."

And the two friends stood there, side by side, for a long time after that, sharing a comfortable silence. The weight of their sorrow was heavy in the air, but every now and then their shoulders brushed and Hermione would let a little smile toy at her lips, thinking that maybe there was some hope there after all.

….

….

….

Draco was awoken by a body wriggling under the sheets, nestling itself into the crook of his shoulder. His eyes fluttered wearily, but he didn't jolt up or even tense at the intrusion. He could tell from the scent of her hair and the soft skin pressing against him that it was Hermione. He smiled lethargically, wrapping a heavy arm around her waist.

"Finished for the night?" he drawled, running one hand lazily up and down her spine. Hermione hummed happily and snuggled closer.

"Yes. Madame Pomfrey insisted that I take a break."

"Good idea. Remind me to thank her…"

Draco placed a slow kiss on her collarbone, running his nose across the skin of her neck. He revelled in the whimper she released.

"You doing okay?" he asked, his voice muffled against her.

"Better. I spoke to Ron."

Draco stiffened a bit in concern, raising his head slightly.

"How did _that_ go?"

"Surprisingly well. I think we might even salvage our friendship."

Draco just muttered quietly to himself, reserving the right to be sceptical about anything concerning that ginger haired moron. But he didn't voice his doubts. Weasley had just lost a brother. Not to mention the boy's former love was currently wrapped in _his_ arms making little purring sounds of contentment. He could let sleeping dogs lie for now.

"Snape's gone," he told her instead, thinking back on his parting with the surly older man.

"Hmm? What do you mean?" she asked curiously but with a sleepy tone.

"He stayed long enough to help round up some Death Eaters and to identify the ones who's died. But I think all the hero worship was a bit much for him." He chuckled at the memory of a throng of students swamping the poor ex-headmaster. It seemed that everybody had just instantly transformed their opinions of him rather hastily. And, rather than being hated and reviled, he was now suddenly seen as some kind of romantic, Byronic hero swooping in to save the day and honour his lost love. What they'd failed to remember, however, was that, hero or not, he was still a callous bastard. He'd brushed all the fawning praise off with a look akin to disgust. He'd shared a few terse words of gratitude with Potter and Draco before vanishing with a crack. They'd watched the space where he'd disappeared for a moment before erupting into matching laughs, especially upon seeing the disappointed frown on Professor Trelawny's face.

"I can imagine," Hermione agreed, "He's almost as famous as Harry now."

"Oh don't worry. Your friend Potter seemed to do a pretty good job at keeping a low profile too. He kept popping up to speak with me from under that damned cloak all day. Scared me shitless more than once. Smug wanker."

He felt Hermione laughing, her shoulders shaking as she leaned up to kiss him gently on the lips.

"Admit it, you don't exactly hate him anymore."

Draco squirmed a bit, but her gaze was intent and he found himself blushing a bit when she placed another kiss on his jaw and then across to his ear.

"He's bearable, I suppose."

"Bearable?"

" _Fine_ then… he's acceptable."

Hermione let out a pretty little giggle as she nipped at his earlobe.

"There. That wasn't so hard was it?"

He let out a throaty chuckle and slipped his arm further around her waist, pressing their bodies together more intimately and seeking out her lips for a thorough snogging. He'd much rather be kissing her than talking about Harry bloody Potter. When they finally emerged for air, he saw her smiling up at him and his heart clenched in wonder.

"What now?" she asked.

"Now we sleep, I suppose."

"No," she corrected gently, smile still very much in place, "I mean where do we go from here? What will you do now that it's over?"

Draco thought about it for a long time, but the answers were just out of reach, swirling around in a confusing jumble of plans, dreams and desires. Eventually he shrugged.

"I don't know. Anything, I suppose. For the first time in my life I'm actually free to do whatever I want."

He didn't think it was possible for Hermione to look any more beautiful than she did at that moment, her smile stretching into a grin that lit up the entire room and healing his broken soul.

"And what does Draco Malfoy want?" she asked in a slightly croaky voice. And this time he didn't have to think about it for even a second.

"I want to steal you away from here, take you back to that damn house in the valley and spend at least a year just ravaging you on that big old bed until we're both practically comatose from exhaustion and pleasure."

"Sounds… _nice_ …" she whispered, her eyelashes fluttering as a pink flush spread across her cheeks. Draco sobered then, his smile dropping as he met her brown gaze with an intensity that he felt coursing through his entire body.

"And then, Hermione Granger, I'm going to build a life with you," he watched her gasp at his simple, meaningful words, but he powered on before she could interrupt, "I'm going to spend my life endeavouring to deserve you and to make you happy. That's what I want. Tell me you want that too."

The last desperate plea was said in a nervous whisper, his voice trembling as he waited for her response. And he didn't have to wait long.

"I want that more than _anything._ "

And with those few words, Draco knew that his future was set in stone. And it brought him more happiness that he even knew a person could feel.

….

….

….

 **Aw. Sorry it got a bit sappy there. It just felt like time for some fluff after all the death and despair. Going to finish up next chapter obviously with some kind of non-offensive epilogue. Let me know what you think please! Reviews are so very much appreciated and adored.**


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Chapter Twenty: Epilogue**

 **…** **.**

 **Well this is it. The end of a long journey! I hope you enjoyed this story, and that this last little snippet is a satisfying conclusion. Please let me know what you thought of this piece… even if you've been a casual weekly reader I'd love to know what you liked about it and what kept you reading until the end. If you're a regular reader, how does it rate against my other three stories? I'd be interested to know which has been your favourite.**

 **As always, JKR has been the inspiration – Isn't it great that we were able to live through the Harry Potter era? So lucky.**

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….

So fair and foul a day he had not seen in many months. Draco stared glumly around at the dark clouds creeping in over the mountains and into their valley. It would surely be one fearsome thunderstorm. It looked like the sky would crack and open up in a matter of hours. Probably before nightfall.

Draco sighed. It didn't matter much either way to him. He was actually quite fond of a good rainfall, but he knew that Hermione had been dreaming about the perfect white Christmas all month. She would be devastated if the fluffy white slopes around them turned to sludge. Especially since she had gone to such a lot of effort to decorate the house beautifully and string up gold and silver fairy lights all around their little home. He decided not to mention it, choosing instead to lean his forehead against window and wait for her to finish getting herself ready. She was still upstairs adorning herself with the usual Weasley Christmas jumper and putting on shimmery little bells as earrings. Draco's looked down at his own woollen jumper with a slight frown. He wasn't sure how he felt about wearing it; but Mrs Weasley had made it especially for him and he knew that she was really trying to throw everything into Christmas this year. It was as though everyone needed a good old fashioned 'pick me up' and the joyful holiday season seemed to be re-invigorating them all. It had only been a few months since the final battle at Hogwarts but it felt like years had passed. The time had dragged on like a bad dream for most. So Hermione had insisted that everyone needed a good filling of Turkey and bonbons to finish the year on a bang.

And really, the jumper wasn't so bad. It was kind of cute actually. Molly had knitted it in a dark forest green colour, and a tiny silver dragon was emblazoned on the chest to suit his name. It was sort of her way of accepting him into their fold. Or maybe it was just her way of begging his forgiveness for doubting him. Draco had been rather blindsided by the rush of sheepish, disingenuous kindness directed towards him since the end of the war. There was still a lot of bitterness there on his part, but Hermione always made sure that the few select Order members who had been genuinely cruel to him never stepped inside their sphere of acquaintance. There were one or two notable exceptions who had not been invited to Christmas dinner.

But Molly was alright, he supposed. She had been cautious of him at first, and disappointed that Hermione was not dating her son, but that wariness had quickly given way to a sort of motherly affection. He figured that losing a son in the battle had changed her perspective on some things and she was eager to treasure the people close to her, such as the curly haired girl who had at some point become an unofficial member of the Weasley clan.

It was a small price to pay to be with Hermione, really.

Draco stepped away from the window and looked back into the living room to check the clock hanging over the fireplace. Their guests would be arriving soon. The room was absolutely resplendent, with tinsel and holly hanging all around and a beautiful tree in one corner. The smell of pine was thick and heavy in the air. And, just as she'd described all those months ago, he had really loved decorating it with her. She'd made hot chocolate and they'd worked together arranging things by hand, gentle music humming in the background while the fireplace crackled. It was like some kind of cheesy muggle postcard, he thought, remembering how she's described it at the time. But it was nice. And he'd been filled with a strange sort of masculine pride when she'd presented the glittering golden star to him with a beaming smile and had told him it was his job to place the ornament right at the top of the tree.

His musings were interrupted when Hermione practically skipped into the room, placing a bottle of mulled wine on the sideboard.

"I forgot that Molly gave me this a few days ago…" she was saying, mostly to herself, as she hurried around and checked that everything was perfect. Draco barely heard her. He was too busy admiring the beautiful green dress she was wearing, a soft cashmere material that was tied like a wrap around her waist. Her ears, wrist and fingers were adorned with glittering gold jewels. All of them were gifts from him from the past few weeks.

It had taken her a while to get used to accepting these kinds of gifts from him. At first she had stubbornly refused any gestures where he would try to spoil her rotten or spend large amounts of money on her. But he was starting to win that battle. Now it was fairly normal to present her with flowers or chocolates, perfume or clothes whenever he felt like it. She merely tutted and rolled her eyes at first, but then her blush would deepen and she usually left a tender kiss on his cheek, while he smiled proudly.

The only piece of jewellery that was conspicuously absent now was the old golden locket on its long chain, the one that had belonged to her grandmother. That was tucked safely under Draco's own knitted jumper, pressed warm and comforting against his sternum. He was truly humbled by its place next to his heart. Hermione had insisted he take it the moment they had arrived back here after things at Hogwarts had settled down.

 _"_ _You should wear it. That way you'll always have a piece of me with you…"_

He remembered her words now, the memory bringing a smile to his face as he watched her straighten a few Christmas cards and decorations. Feeling the mischief of the season take hold, he slipped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, tugging her back to lean against his chest.

"Draco! What are you doing?"

She giggled as he placed a few lingering kisses on her neck, shivering when he touched a ticklish spot.

"I'm enjoying our last remaining minutes of peace…"

Hermione snorted.

"The party won't be _that_ bad."

"I'm sure it will be wonderful," he agreed, "But I'd still rather have you all to myself."

"You've basically had me all to yourself for months. We've been terribly neglectful of our friends and family!"

"We see them once a week," he protested with a sulky pout, moving to kiss down and across her shoulder, "And anyway, I don't think I'll ever get used to sharing you."

The moment Draco nibbled down gently on the curve between her neck and her shoulder, he felt Hermione shudder and spin around in his arms. Then her mouth was on his and they were kissing like there was no tomorrow. He loved this about her; that she seemed to want him just as much as he clearly wanted her. And how eager she was to just get lost in their kisses. Draco groaned and deepened the kiss, his hands quickly running over the gentle arch of her back and slipping down to grab her arse, pulling her closer.

"Draco-mmh!" Hermione gave him one last firm kiss then pulled away, "Our guests are arriving at any moment!"

"So?" he asked with a devilish smirk.

"So…so I…we…" whatever she was going to say seemed to disappear from her thoughts, and with a little whimper of need she kissed him again. She started mewling into his mouth and attacking his lips until he felt his eyes roll back into his head. But just before things might have got carried away, a polite knock echoed in from the door.

"Noo…" he murmured against her lips, but she just smiled cheekily.

"Later," she promised, drawing away from his embrace as they heard the soft chattering of voices coming from outside. Hermione walked lightly over to the door and threw it open, welcoming their first guests in from the snow.

"Hello Andromeda, hello Ted!"

The two people she had just greeted cheerfully made their way into the living room. Draco pushed aside his frustration with having to end his little tryst with Hermione. He would definitely make up for it later, he thought ruefully.

"Aunt Andromeda!" Draco gave his aunt an affectionate kiss on the cheek. She smiled at him, looking him over with an approving eye. She was worse than Molly Weasley.

"How are you?" she asked him softly, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders.

"Exceptionally well, thank you," he replied with a self-satisfied grin. Andromeda rolled her eyes and gave him a rather dry stare.

"Yes, I imagine you are…"

Draco chuckled and then looked over her shoulder towards her husband Ted. The man was inspecting the room with an expression of delight. His warm blue eyes were lit up, and his moustache was twitching as he beamed. The two shook hands warmly. He had spent quite a bit of time getting to know his muggleborn uncle by marriage over the last few months. The man was just… well, there was no other word to describe it – _nice._ He was a truly good person through and through, always lending an ear to listen to his problems, or offering a helping hand with the house. The two had worked hard together one week fixing up the roof tiles, and they had become quite close during the long hours stuck up there in the summer heat.

"The place is looking splendid!" Ted exclaimed, eyes darting happily between Draco and Hermione, "Even better than the last time I stopped by. You've both worked absolute wonders on this old shack!"

"And the Christmas decorations are beautiful," Andromeda agreed with an approving nod.

"That was all Hermione," Draco explained, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend's waist and giving her a little squeeze.

"We're so grateful to you for letting us stay here a little while longer" Hermione told the couple in front of them, "so it was the least we could do. We're just happy you like it."

Andromeda and Ted exchanged a significant look between them, the kind that only an old married couple would understand. They were perfectly able to communicate without words. His aunt turned back to them with a slightly devious smile.

"Actually, on that topic, we wanted to arrive a little early tonight to give you your Christmas gift…"

"You didn't have to get us anything-" Draco started but Ted just laughed and clapped him on the back.

"It's Christmas, Draco my boy. Just accept it."

He bit his lip and they followed the older could over to the couch where they gestured for everyone to sit. Andromeda reached into the folds of her robe and, with a heartfelt smile, handed over a thick white envelope. Draco cocked his head to the side and accepted it, flicking a curious gaze up at his aunt and uncle. But their expressions still gave nothing away. With tentative fingers he pulled the envelope open and drew out the thin booklet of paper inside. Whatever it was, it looked like it had been printed from a muggle computer, something Hermione had been showing him lately. It was neat, perfectly ordered black text fixed with a staple in the top corner. Draco's eyes skimmed the words on the front page. His heart skipped and he read it a second time. Then a third. His mouth dropped open, and he heard Hermione gasp, reading it over his shoulder.

"It's…" he started, before swallowing and then continuing to speak in a croaky voice, "These are the deeds to the house. _This_ house."

"Yes," Ted confirmed with a kindly wink.

"But… it's a notice of an official change of ownership."

"Yes," he repeated, smile widening.

"You're giving us the house?" he whispered hoarsely, his voice a bit strained from shock and awe.

"Merry Christmas, Draco."

Hermione's eyes were wide and a little bit watery, a look that surely mirrored his own.

"But…why?" he asked shakily. Andromeda chuckled and placed a comforting hand over his.

"Do I need a reason to spoil my favourite nephew?"

"I'm your only nephew," he reminded her in a dry voice.

"You question _my_ generosity?" she asked him, her tone amused, "When you were the one who relinquished so much of your inheritance to me?"

"That's different," Draco protested weakly, "It was rightfully yours. This is… too much!"

"Nonsense," Ted laughed, "We don't need this place anymore. It's just sitting here gathering dust. And you two have worked so hard to make it a home. _Your_ home. Consider a 'welcome to the family' gift from both of us."

Draco was truly humbled. He stared at the couple before him in disbelief. His mouth had gone dry and he wasn't sure what to say. His gratitude was so overwhelming that he wasn't sure how to put it into words. He floundered for a little while, before meeting Hermione's eye. She gave him an encouraging smile and a little nudge, a slight sniffle escaping her.

"Aunt…Uncle-" he began, using their family names as a sign of his respect and fondness, "I don't know how to thank you-"

"Just live a happy life here, that's enough for us," Andromeda assured him. He searched her face for some sign that she might be uncertain or expect something more from him. But her gaze was like an ocean, calm and deep. There was only sincerity in her eyes.

 _Our home… our family…_

In response to her words, Draco did something he hadn't done in a very long time. There was something tiny but powerful inside him that compelled him forwards. A long forgotten urge that he had buried along with his mother. Leaning forwards the short distance between them, he wrapped his arms around his aunt and drew her in for a hug. His mind may have almost forgotten how to embrace someone like this, but his body hadn't, he realised as he melted against her. It wasn't like holding Hermione at all. With Hermione it was something more electric that filled him with a fierce surge of protectiveness and adoration. But this was the kind of simple hug that demanded nothing, it merely expressed a care and a tenderness that was comforting - it was safe. It felt like belonging.

"Merry Christmas, Andromeda," he murmured into her dark brown hair, and she felt her hands squeeze his back in response. A playful knock at the door surprised the small group sitting together on the couch, and Draco pulled back with a sheepish grin, wiping his eyes surreptitiously. Hermione looked almost as moved by the gesture as he was, if her milky eyes were any indication. Or maybe she was just happy for him. When a few long seconds had passed, the knock on the door sounded again, still playful but louder this time, more insistent. Hermione laughed.

"That will be Harry," she told them, obviously recognising the familiar rhythm. She rose to skip over to the front door again and before Draco could get a hold on his emotions once more, the scruffy haired boy was bursting into the room with a slightly breathless grin, followed by the much more grim, seriously unimpressed figure of their former Potions master. Draco laughed out loud in surprised joy.

 _Well I'll be damned…_

Potter had actually done it! The boy had claimed that he would somehow find a way to drag Snape along to this Christmas gathering. He had insisted that the dour former spy should be surrounded by friends and family for the holiday. Draco had doubted he'd succeed. In fact, he'd just lost ten galleons, since he'd stupidly agreed to bet on the outcome. Potter looked around the room with excited green eyes, as if he'd never had a happier Christmas in his life. The scar on his forehead was faded now, barely visible except for the slight pink jagged line under his mop of hair. Snape scowled behind him while he clapped his hands together in glee.

"Let's get this party started, shall we?"

….

….

Chestnuts were roasted. Marshmallows were toasted. They sung carols at the tops of their voices (except Snape, who glowered at them from one corner of the room, sipping at his eggnog and trying to conceal how his foot tapped unconsciously along to the rhythm.) And they ate, made merry and told stories of Christmases from long, long ago…

….

….

….

When Hermione slipped into bed in the early hours of the morning, once all their guests had left, she was exhausted, totally stuffed full of food and extremely content. In the dim light of a candle on her nightstand, she peered across at Draco, noticing that he was lying rather still. His steely grey eyes were staring sightlessly up at the ceiling, clearly lost in thought. One hand was fiddling unconsciously with the locket around his neck that she had given him many months ago. Hermione shook her head and smiled.

"Where has Draco gone?" she wondered out loud in a gentle, teasing voice, pretending to search the bed for him. She watched as he blinked and turned to face her, his lips twitching into an amused smirk.

"Far far away," he sighed, shifting his body so that he was facing her. Although he had certainly seemed miles away, it wasn't long before his eyes sharpened and he was running his gaze over her neck and across her collarbone. He reached out and toyed with the thin strap of her nightgown with one finger.

"Dobby insisted that his bedroom was too big, so he made me shrink it," she told him, chuckling at the antics of the little house elf. Until tonight he had stayed stationed at Hogwarts helping with the on going clean up, but shortly after they had received the documents declaring that the ownership of the house had changed, the stubborn creature had shown up and insisted that he remain by Draco's side to keep house for him.

"He's always been a bit odd, even for a house elf," Draco told her with a gleam of humour in his eyes. Hermione snuggled closer, pulling the covers up and pressing her body against his to get warm.

"Your toes are like ice!" he told her, shivering at the feel of her wrapping her legs around his. But instead of withdrawing, he wriggled closer and proceeded to try and warm her up. But his methods were rather distracting as he used not only his toasty warm legs but also began placing a series of rather ardent kisses along the swell of her breasts peaking out from her nightie.

"Welcome home, Granger," he told her with a sly smile, peeking up at her and moving his hands to cup her bottom, pulling her against him so she could feel his body's reaction to her curves. She wondered how they could be built for such stamina, but he constantly surprised her with his unrelenting ardour.

"What were you thinking about just now?" she asked him, running a hand throw his soft blond hair as he spread kisses all across her chest, She reached down to touch her fingers to the chain of the locket he had been holding absentmindedly earlier. Draco grasped it in his hand and smiled up at her.

"I was thinking about how much my life has changed," he told her in a surprisingly solemn voice, "When I stole this locket in sixth year, it represented a distant, hopeless dream that I needed just to survive."

"And now?" she asked gently, nestling closer into the warmth of his body.

"Now it's _real_. It reminds me that I have you here with me. That I don't need to be afraid anymore. And that you love me."

Hermione felt an ache blossom in her chest, a feeling of tenderness so sharp that she actually lost her breath for a second as she drank him in. She moved her hand down to rest against his chest, pressing the locket into the skin where his heart was.

"I'll always love you," she whispered, blinking quickly to stem the tears that threatened to prickle and sting her eyes. A long moment passed between them, one that held so much emotion it seemed endless. But then Draco suddenly smiled, a wicked smile that made her whole body quiver instinctively.

"Now… is it time to open my gift?"

She laughed heartily, chocking back her tears and kissing him once fiercely on the lips.

"Oh please do…"

….

….

….

 **Well… Merry Christmas everyone. I hope you enjoyed this story. It is indeed finished. Please be absolutely lovely darling friends and leave me a review with your thoughts about this piece as a whole now that we've reached our end. And happy holidays.**


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